Faeries in Space
by kadybug srf
Summary: It is said that history is written by the victors. Sometimes, secrets older than history itself come back for revenge. A cloud is threatening Bajor, and Garak has discovered a secret that could crack the very foundations of the Federation.
1. Prologue

It is said that history is written by the victors; this is especially true in the story you are about to read. This is a tale about the consequences of a war so ancient that the victors now believe it to be a simple myth. Our story begins with a simple Earth book. Crafted in an unknown era, this book has been passed through the Bashir family for countless generations.

After the trip to Adigeon Prime, a multitude of things were left behind in the home of Julian's childhood--the old book was one of them. Years later, when his father was imprisoned, Bashir's mother had returned to that house for the first time. When the war with the Dominion ended, his mother had brought this book to Julian at the station.

Julian remembered being very young and staring at the old script for hours, enjoying the smell and feel and look of the thing. Now, it was a painful reminder of before.

And so, the precious Bashir heirloom passed hands to a Cardassian--one Elim Garak.

Nearly a year after freeing Cardassia, the tailor had returned to Deep Space Nine to conclude his affairs permanently and to relocate his effects to his home planet. Upon his final departure, Doctor Bashir had pressed the ancient text into Garak's hands.

"I'll want this back, you know," Julian had warned, continuing quickly to avoid protest. "It's a precious family heirloom."

Garak had smiled and nodded graciously in an unspoken promise to one day meet again.

Upon his return to Cardassia, Garak was again taken with the efforts to rebuild his home. When he could, he spared the time to study the Bashir tome. As Garak understood, it was simply a book of human fairy tales.

Garak often read late into the night, deciphering and scribbling and working with several programs of his own design to translate the text.

One such night, Garak worked perhaps too late, as he fell asleep while working to decipher the text. While he slumbered, a sliver of Cardassian moonlight inched along the floor; after a time, the light came to rest on a sigil inscribed on the open page. The sigil glowed and a slight wisp of steam rose and dissapated.

On another plane of existance entirely, a slender youthful figure opened her eyes for the first time in years. She blinked and stretched--and stared.

In front of her, on the solid plane, a creature slumbered at a desk. It was decidedly reptilian in nature, and yet it was shaped like a man. It was wearing clothes--rather pretty clothes, as the figure noted to herself.

She stepped forward lightly, looked out the nearest window, and stared agog. None of the life in the gardens outside was remotely similar to anything she'd ever seen. Nothing on Earth was similar to anything outside of that window.

The figure wandered the room she was in, poking and prodding at things to see if there was some sort of information available--to no avail.

She sighed and sat down on the corner of the desk. She nearly fell through to the floor when she sneezed--keeping corporeal relations was difficult on this planet, which surely was not Earth.

x END CHAPTER x

**Author's Notes: Just starting a fic, nothing to see here. If you like this fic, please drop a review below.****Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek, Doctor Bashir, Elim Garak, Caddassia, and a host of other things. Aisling is a character of my original design, any resemblance to other persons real or fictional is a coincidence.****Smash that subscribe button!**


	2. Chapter One

Light from the Cardassian sun streamed through the window, illuminating the large black workstation set in the center of the room. Garak sat at the desk with his chair swivelled to face the garden window. His eyes were screwed shut and he breathed deeply, counting slowly to ten.

The day was only a few hours old, and already it was too far from over. Garak's eyes opened when the computer chimed to signal a message incoming, one that no doubt required his immediate attention. Garak pinched the bridge of his nose and leaned back in his chair, swerving back to face his desk.

"Yes?" Garak queried. The computer chimed again, and the screen flashed with the stamp of the Federation.

"Ah, yes," Garak spoke aloud; he felt his expression warming at the intrusion.

Garak engaged communications, and the screen flickered to show Doctor Julian Bashir. Garak's smile grew wider as he took in the image of his friend; seeing the doctor's face was like having a drink of water after being parched for a long time.

"Garak," Bashir said by way of a greeting. He, too, was smiling.

"Hello, my good doctor," Garak commented. Julian's smile became lopsided, a throwback to his seemingly ever-present youth.

"How have you been?" Julian questioned.

Garak sighed.

"I have been well, Doctor. Though I will admit, rebuilding efforts can become quite taxing at times," Garak said. When the devil admits he's tired, you know it's been a long set of days. "And how have you been faring?"

"I've been well, just working on my research, mostly. Starfleet Medical became very interested in a few of my theories lately, so I've been given a bit more leeway with my staff." Julian leaned closer, and the light of passion was bright in his eyes. "I hope to make a breakthrough in just a few weeks, if things hold up."

"Why, that's wonderful news, indeed," Garak replied.

Julian continued on to explain a bit about the nature of his research, the flora and fauna that inspired him, and so on. Garak listened and filed and the gears of his brain definitely kept any information gleaned ready for retrieval; however, if someone had pressed Garak at that moment, he surely wasn't completely present in that conversation.

After a while, Julian had more or less explained the gist of what he was excited about, and the conversation took another turn.

"Ezri and I have been talking," Julian mentioned.

'Here it is,' Garak thought to himself.

Aloud, he asked, "And how is our dear friend Dax doing?"

"She's doing well, quite well," Julian replied with a nod and a small grin. "In fact, she and I are getting married."

There it was. Garak felt his face freeze in a smile, warmth shining from his face while his heart was gripped with a chill.

"Why, congratulations, Doctor!" Garak's voice was charming and glad, a careful enactment of practice and precision. His thoughts were...stuck.

Julian smiled a little more truly now; he had been a bit leery of what Garak's reaction would be. Though Bashir was nearly certain that Garak was using cheeriness as a facade for something (after all, the doctor had discovered over the years that Garak's cheer was seldom other than a facade), Julian was content to take his friend at face value for now.

"Will you be able to attend?" Julian asked--Garak nearly chuckled, even as he wanted to knock everything on the desk to the floor. Such an innocent happiness was in the doctor's eyes, coupled with such a blindness to the wound he'd created.

"I will take care to clear my schedule for the entire week," Garak promised. "When is the ceremony to take place?"

Garak and Julian spoke a while longer, of dates and plans, of shuttles and long trips ahead.

When he sensed the conversation was nearing its end, Garak inclined his head gracefully.

"Julian?" He spoke the name softly, musically. He made it a question and a statement; Bashir could count on one hand the number of times he'd heard Garak use his first name.

"Yes, Elim?" Familiarity was met with familiarity.

Garak placed his hand directly on the view screen, fingers splayed. Julian's eyebrows winged up in shock before he mirrored the gesture; it was an old Cardassian greeting, torn in two by the distance between them and mended by modern technology.

"Thank you," Garak replied. He let his gaze and his hand drop; true familiarity was so uncomfortable for Garak that even this pallid gesture was monumental, though it only showed a fraction of the depth of Garak's emotions.

"Garak." Julian's tone was the one you didn't argue with; the tone where his cheer and verve dissappeared under the weight of his words.

Garak looked up. Julian's eyes were sincere and piercing.

"Thank you," Julian said plainly. "You've been...one of the best friends I've ever had."

Garak acknowledged this with a deep nod; they both silently ignored the question between them that forever would go unanswered.

"Well, then, if that is quite all, Doctor, I have matters here that need to be seen to," Garak spoke into the vortex of emotions between them. His tone was bright, unsuited to the moment.

"Yes, that's all," Julian uttered. He seemed defeated in some way, though he did manage to muster a smile. "Goodbye, Garak."

"Goodbye, my good doctor," Garak said. He nodded a final time and ended the communication.

Garak leaned back once more in his chair and took in the room around him.

Nothing was out of place; every padd and every file was meticulously organized. Garak wanted to send everything into chaos.

Julian was...getting married.

Garak put his face into his hands and sighed.

"It's just as well, you know," he coached himself aloud. "Sentiment is one of life's greatest weaknesses."

"But sentiment can also be a source of strength," a voice replied from the otherwise empty room.

Shock pushed Garak straight to his feet, his eyes quickly drinking in his surroundings.

"Why, hello," Garak called out into the room. His voice dripped with lush welcome, belying his dangerous intentions. He slipped his hand into his desk, retrieving a phaser.

"Hullo," the voice replied. Garak whirled, but no one point seemed to emanate with the sound; the voice was simply everywhere.

"Might I ask, to whom am I speaking?" Garak queried. He adjusted the phaser setting quickly with the ease of practice.

"No," the voice answered.

"No?" Garak queried. He scanned the room around him, then he pressed a few buttons to initiate a full computer scan of the room.

"You may not ask my name; however, you may call me Aisling," the voice informed him. Garak's eyebrows rose.

"'Shining one'?" Garak repeated somewhat incredulously.

"Oh? You're familiar with Gaelic?"

Garak chuckled dryly at the question.

"I know many things," he replied.

"I see," the voice noted.

"Ahh, but I don't see. I don't see you, that is," Garak pressed on, hoping to convince or goad his guest into showing themselves.

A tinkling laughter filled the room; Garak found himself smiling despite the tension. The joyous sound became nearly palpable for a few moments, until the laughter died away.

Garak was still smiling. His endorphins were pumping, his mind was reeling--he hadn't had this much fun in a very long time. It was high stakes hide and seek--a game Garak intended to win. The matter of Julian slipped a little further from Garak's mind.

"And you won't see me while you're holding a weapon." The voice took a chiding tone, and Garak full-out grinned.

"Aah, but for all I know you have thirteen disruptors trained on me at this very moment. What choice do I have but to defend myself?" Garak turned to survey the room again, and he studied the available readouts from the computer's report.

Both searches gave Garak the same evidence; there was nothing and no one that his senses or the computer's sensors could detect in the room with him. He frowned.

"I don't suppose you'd like to tell me your business?" Garak asked. His tone was hopeful, though mostly for show.

"No, not particularly," the voice confirmed. "Though, I will say, you're being rather rude."

"_I_ am being rude?" Garak was once again surprised. "I do believe you are the one breaking and entering, my dear. I, on the other hand, have been peacefully minding my own business and have had my very own home invaded!"

After this outburst was over, Garak glared into the center of the room as though he was challenging the voice to disagree.

"Aaah," the response came. "But is it not rude to inquire someone's name before introducing oneself?"

Garak inclined his head, still grinning despite himself. No one had given Garak such a verbal sparring since...Julian. Before that, it was Tain.

"Quite true, I'm afraid. How terribly rude of me," he replied. Garak lifted his hands in an old gesture of acquiescence. "I am known as Garak."

"It's very nice to meet you, Garak," the voice answered.

"Likewise...Aisling," Garak said.

At that moment, the last of the golden square of light moved from the desk to stain the floor; the sun had trekked further on its course in the sky, causing the light to shift (as it does).

Garak stood there, poised and waiting with his phaser, for several minutes before he spoke again.

"Aisling, what is it that brings you here? Are you a friend? A foe? Do you need assistance of some manner?" Garak asked.

The only sound that answered him was the chirruping and whooping of the birds from the garden outside. Garak frowned and studied the computer sensors closely. There was no evidence that anything had happened at all, much less any sort of explanation for the sudden silent treatment.

"Why are you here?" Garak tried again. Again, there was no answer.

Garak stood, unmoving, for fifteen full minutes. The only motion was the slight flare of his nostrils as he breathed and his eyes constantly wheeling around to scan the room.

After a while, Garak felt a little silly with his phaser.

"Garak," he told himself. "You're beginning to imagine things."

Garak tossed the phaser onto the desk haphazardly and sank into the chair. His thoughts returned to the communication from earlier; Julian and Ezri were to be married.

Was it any wonder that the shock of it had pushed Garak's mind to hallucinate? Years of latent attraction between Garak and Julian had bent Garak's mind; the sudden snap of reality evidently had caused him to invent someone to replace the good doctor.

Garak scowled as he pulled a padd closer to him; he began to survey the plan to purify more water from the great Cardassian rivers.

Garak worked until the stars were the only light shining in the sky, stabbing his fingers into the padds and computer screens venomously.

When his eyes were sandy and painfully dry, Garak switched his computer off.

Garak sat in his now dark office and glowered. Despite his effort, he knew he'd accomplished nothing today. Reports he'd read didn't stay in his mind, replies that he sent merely restated the matters at hand and offered no new insights or conclusions.

Garak sighed heavily and shoved away from the desk. He stood and stretched, and then he walked to the door. Garak cast one final glance around the darkened room--there was no sign of anyone, as it should be.

Garak wondered again if his mind was beginning to betray him. He shook his head and turned, slipping away to his quarters for some much needed rest.

What little sleep Garak managed to get was broken by sleepless stretches and fitful dreams. Images of his beloved doctor and the memory of strange voices floated through his mind until his alarm signalled the next day.

I END CHAPTER I

**Author's Notes -****Nobody:****Me: What does, "FiS GO!!" stand for, you ask?****Nobody (again):****Me: FiS GO!! stands for, "Faeries in Space GO!!" haha.****Disclaimer: All Star Trek ideas, factions, and characters are not mine. They belong to their respective owners. Aisling and future original characters are of my own creation, and similarities to peoples real or fictional is coincidental.**


	3. Chapter Two

The next day, Garak was barely present in his home. Meetings and administrative duties had him travelling around the continent for most of the day.

When he returned in the late afternoon, his clothing was torn and stained with river clay. Garak walked into his office and dropped his bag to the left of the door. He crossed to his desk and noticed several messages and notifications waiting for him; Garak sighed and sat down.

Some hours later, he'd slogged through the backlog of work. Garak sat in his chair, staring out the window at his garden. The llylmarrissa was blooming wildly, with several sullen blossoms wilting and in severe need of trimming.

"What are you doing?" The voice from the day before echoed into the room.

Garak surged to his feet.

"What do you want?" Garak demanded; his tone was sharp and callous. The honeyed words and gracious air from the day before were gone, replaced by venom and caution.

"I dunno," the voice replied. Garak's breath hissed in.

"What do you mean, you don't know? Show yourself!" Garak challenged. He didn't draw a phaser today, for he was much too convinced that it was his own mind playing tricks on him.

"No," the voice replied. "If I show myself, you'll just kill me."

Garak's eyes narrowed to dangerous slits.

"I hardly need to see you to kill you," Garak promised. "And I hardly see the point of harassing this old man for days on end. If you have a point, then state it. If not, begone!"

"Very well," the voice agreed. "If you must know, I have no earthly idea why I am here, where I am, or how I came to be here."

Garak glowered, ensured in his own understanding that he was being lied to. The trick was to decide if it was his mind or an actual entity that was doing the lying.

"That hardly seems to be my problem," Garak replied. "My concerns are with the security of Cardassia, to which you are a threat."

"Why would I threaten a place I've never heard of? Why have you brought me here?" the voice demanded; Garak blinked at the sudden accusation.

"I hardly think I am responsible for the transport of someone I have never met!" Garak scoffed.

"Why am I here, then?" the voice demanded.

"Indeed, why ARE you here?" Garak retorted. "And why do you insist upon pestering me? Why not some other hapless fool?"

"I didn't choose this!" the voice was yelling now. "I was brought here, against my knowledge and against my will. You are the only one that I have seen in my entire time here, and I demand to know why I have been brought here!!" At this outburst, the tome Garak had recieved from Bashir shuddered and flew across the room, seemingly of its own volition.

Garak gaped.

"What just--" Garak began to question, but the voice cut him off.

"I demand to know, why! Did you conquer Earth? Am I a prize to be auctioned or kept? Did you bring me here to destroy me?"

Garak's mind reeled--the subject matter of the flying book in question appeared to be an old Earth fairy tail. One about an entity that was bound to an object by forces beyond human kin. Garak calculated and considered; he recalled all he could of ancient Earth legends (and promised himself to ammend the gaps in his knowledge). What was the name of that creature?

"You're a faerie," Garak declared. It was a hunch--emboldened by his years of experience on DS9. Ancient tales often had more truth to them than commonly believed.

"And you're an assassin," the voice replied. "Or a spy, or a court official--or all three. You're too much of a fey yourself not to be."

Garak's face closed. The observation was keen and, from what Garak knew of the myths, rather cutting.

"Well, what now?" the voice queried.

Garak shook his head.

"I don't know," he replied. "I don't know that there is anything to do now. I didn't bring you here for a reason, I see nothing keeping you here."

"I am unable to leave this place," the voice informed him.

"Is that so?" Garak queried. "And what is it that is stopping you, exactly?"

For a time, there was only silence. Garak believed for a few moments that the creature had decided to leave him or ignore him once again.

"I can't go more than 300 meters from my anchor," the voice muttered.

Garak crossed the room and picked up the book. He held it vaguely aloft.

"You mean this, don't you?" Garak asked.

After a stilted pause (Garak wondered if the creature nodded before realizing he couldn't see), the voice replied, "Yes."

Garak nodded, and his gaze dropped to the tome in his hands. Garak wondered if Julian knew exactly what he had loaned to his Cardassian friend.

"I see," Garak mused. "For now, I suppose, feel very free to inhabit the gardens, at least what you can reach of them. Do you require any sustenance?"

The silence drew out until the invisible creature responded.

"Only what I gain from breathing."

Garak nodded.

"Very well. I do believe that all further discussions of the future had best wait until the morrow; the hour is late, my dear, and I, quite frankly, am exhausted."

A faint sound of agreeance sounded in the air, and Garak nodded. He placed the ancient book carefully in a desk drawer, away from any damaging lights that might shine through the window.

He crossed to the door and ordered the computer to shut off the lights.

"Won't you join me in the garden?" Garak asked aloud.

"Oh," the voice said. Garak supposed that it was a sound of assent.

Garak crossed the threshold to the outdoors and picked up a small bag of gardening tools.

He began to trim dead blooms from his bushes as well as retie any loosened stakes. Garak found himself talking aloud as he gardened, informing his guest of the names and basic natures of his plants--llylmarrissa that preferred to have wet roots, the Vulcan roses that needed more nitrogen than Cardassian soil tended to provide, and more.

The replies were mostly hums and general noises of assent, but Garak felt his nerves calming. Gardening tended to have that effect on him.

"I thought you were going to bed," Aisling said; it was a query, despite the declarative nature with which the voice spoke.

"I never said that," Garak corrected patiently. "What I said was, 'Further discussions had best wait.' I am still exhausted, but I have always found gardening rather...soothing. Gardening and hemming."

"Hemming?" Aisling repeated, and Garak made an confirming noise.

"Yes, I spent some time as a tailor on a space station in Bajoran space. This was before the war of course."

"War?" Aisling questioned. Garak nodded.

"Yes, but that's all a story for another time," Garak concluded. He trimmed a few more hedges and blooms with no further queries from his guest.

After a time of rather companionable silence, Garak returned his tools to the bag and stashed them away again.

"And now I believe it is time for me to retire," Garak said aloud.

His unseen companion did not reply, though Garak waited for it. After a few minutes, he nodded to himself and shrugged.

"Goodnight, Aisling," Garak muttered as he crossed into his home.

"Goodnight, Garak," Aisling said. The voice was softer now, and the sound was further away. As he walked through the house toward his quarters (his bedroom, he reminded himself), he supposed that Aisling had decided to stay in the gardens after all.

II END CHAPTER II

**Author's Notes: Idk what Llylmarrissa is, it just sounded good. I guess the Cardassian answer to gardenias? I like gardenias. **


	4. Chapter Three

The pattern set continued on for a few weeks; Garak would leave early in the morning to take care of business across Cardassia. In the evenings, he spoke with his invisible guest in the gardens; a few sleepless nights saw Garak working to translate the Bashir text further.

One bright afternoon, Garak was seated at his desk. About a week ago, he had sent a secured message to Julian, informing his friend of a situation in dire need of the Federation's consideration. Julian had yet to respond.

Garak sighed heavily and shoved away from the desk. He was no longer quite amused with the events at hand. Aisling, his invisible guest, was terribly closed lipped of her origins or intents--though Garak believed he had a basic understanding of the issue at hand. The war between humans and faeries was so ancient that is was believed to be a myth. Aisling was evidently a relic of that time, or perhaps a member of a semi-enslaved society. If news of either eventually was discovered, the Federation might not withstand the blow.

Aisling spoke only of the plants in the garden or the day's events--she rarely even acknowledged his questions. Garak found himself telling her more about the rebuilding efforts on Cardassia--the harvest on the Southern continent that was crucial for the coming winter, and the weather patterns that weren't looking favorable. The people were anxious, and petty crime was rampant. Each day, some new specter threatened Garak's people.

Garak found Aisling to be a voice of reason--Cardassia's concerns were not her own, so she had no investment. Her judgement was unbiased; to Garak, hers was the most valuable opinion he recieved all day. Others were tinted by pride or fear or some other emotional response to the matters at hand.

Garak also found himself answering her questions about the Alpha Quadrant in general--history lessons ranged from man's first flight (Garak had to do a bit of research before he answered this question) to the vestiges of the Dominion war. Aisling regarded every bit of new information with the same noncommital hum; the only emotion she shared was when Garak spoke of Cardassia. Aisling was surprisingly kind when they spoke of Garak's home and the damages that war had wrought.

The computer chimed and interrupted Garak's reverie.

"Yes?" he said, by way of acknowledging the beep.

"You have one message on a secure channel," the computer informed him.

Garak spun to face the console.

"Yes, patch it through here," Garak said. He listed his authorization code and waited for the verification.

A few moments later, the face of Julian Bashir swam into view.

"Hello, my good doctor," Garak greeted. Julian smiled, and it was a harried expression.

"Hello, Garak," Bashir greeted. "Look, I don't actually have a lot of time, but you said it's urgent?"

"Why, yes, Doctor, it is," Garak said, and he leaned closer to the screen. His face held no joviality, no sincereness. His face, at the moment, was plain to see with no mask to hide away behind.

Julian shuddered. Even years of knowing Garak hadn't prepared him for the raw look on the Cardassian's face.

"What is it, Garak?" Julian asked. He prepared for the worst; some new threat, foreign or domestic. Instead, Julian was shocked at what his friend did ask.

"Julian, how well do you know human myths?" Garak asked.

"Myths?" Julian replied, incredulous. "Is that what this is about?"

Garak held up a hand to stem Julian's forthcoming protest. Garak's eyes were cutting.

"Perhaps you'd better refamiliarize yourself, particularly with the legends of the Tuatha de Dannan and related epics," Garak told the doctor primly.

Julian sat for a moment, thinking.

"The myths of an ancient race, a magical race, that humans fought for the right to live on Earth," Julian reported. Garak inclined his head regally. "Garak, that's just an old Earth legend, what does that have to do with anything?"

Garak smiled, but it wasn't pleasant. Julian read the distaste in his friend's face, the small dissapointment that Julian wasn't as swift as Garak had hoped.

"Julian, the Pah Wraiths were once considered merely a legend," Garak reminded gently.

"But that's--"

"An alien race? Not your problem? Not a secret the enormity of which could shatter the very foundations of the Federation?" Garak asked.

Julian fell silent.

"Nothing, doctor?" Garak prodded.

"What's happened?" Julian asked quietly. "I swear to you, I'll brush up on my myths, but first I have to know why you brought this up. You wouldn't have said it was urgent if you simply had realized the bedtime stories were true--you'd have told me, but not like this. So what happened?"

Garak smiled more truly--the smile that meant Julian was finally catching on.

"Why are you talking in English?" Aisling's voice sounded behind Garak, and he blinked slowly.

"It would seem you accidentally have sent me a house guest," Garak replied to Bashir.

"A house guest?"

Garak rubbed his temple--Bashir and Aisling had blurted out the same thing in stereo.

"Yes, a houseguest," Garak repeated. He opened the desk drawer and withdrew the ancient tome at hand.

"Hey, that's my book," Julian commented. Garak laughed.

"Yes, it is, Julian," Garak replied.

"Wait, that's Julian?" Aisling commented. "That wouldn't happen to be Julian Bashir, would it?"

"Garak, please, just explain it to me," Julian requested. He put up his hand to cut off Garak's next words. "I know, you want me to figure it out myself, but that might take ages and we just don't have time."

Garak rested his head in his hands for a moment.

Aisling had launched into a commentary about the last name Bashir, how strong it was and how courageous the bearers had been throughout history. Julian was stating intently at him over the screen, waiting on a forthcoming explanation.

Instead of directly replying to either, Garak asked the obvious.

"You two can't hear each other, can you?"

Julian sat back, perplexed; Aisling stopped rambling.

"No," Aisling replied first. "In this form, I can't make heads or tails of the technology you use."

"Garak, are you alright?" Julian asked. Garak glared at the worried light in Julian's eyes.

"Yes, Doctor, I'm fine," Garak replied. His tone was carefully short of scathing. Who could blame the doctor, though? Garak had questioned his own sanity a few mere weeks ago over the same situation.

"The guest you sent me, Julian, is a faerie," Garak said.

Julian laughed, a reflex, but his mirth was stemmed by the look on

Garak's face.

"Garak, you can't be serious," Julian said.

"Oh, but I am, doctor," Garak replied.

"He's not going to believe you," Aisling said quietly. "They never believe past their childhood."

"Garak, what on earth has gotten into you?" Julian asked.

"'What on earth has gotten into me?'" Garak repeated incredulously, standing upright. He continued, speaking slowly and plainly, "Julian, you sent me a sentient being."

Julian had no chance to reply before, on Garak's end, a large stack of paperwork flew across the room. Garak pinched the bridge of his nose and inhaled deeply at Aisling's temper tantrum.

"You tell him," Aisling said in a voice smoldering with rage, "that the phrase is, 'What on Cardassia?' And it is so, from what I gather, because his family can't keep track of a simple book!!"

After her outburst, another stack of padds and papers went flying.

"Garak, what the hell is going on?" Julian asked--from his point of view, two stacks of miscellany simply went flying.

"Julian," Garak said calmly. "I'd like you to meet...Aisling. She's the one throwing my things about."

Julian swallowed; the entire conversation seemed to catch up with him, paired with Garak's unphased reaction to something admittedly weird. Faeries?

"Garak, I--" Julian began, but Garak intterupted him.

"And, Julian, the phrase should be, 'What on Cardassia,' as my lovely guest keeps stressing to me."

Julian leaned back incredulously.

"You can hear her?" Julian asked.

"Obviously," Garak replied with a sigh. "I'm not sure what about this conversation served to convince you otherwise."

Julian paled--the enormity of it was monstrous. If it was true, the Federation had a lot of damage control to do. Reparations would last a life time or more--how does one species apologize to another for forgetting their entire existance?

Garak leaned back as he watched the gears run in Julian's head.

"And, now, doctor, I feel it's best to say farewell once more."

Julian nodded mutely, a dazed expression gracing his features.

"Goodnight," Garak said simply before he ended the communication.

III END CHAPTER III

**Author's Note: Yaaay!! Shoutout to everyone who has read, favorited, followed, or especially reviewed! Your input is greatly appreciated. From here, the action starts to pick up a tad bit. Fun fact, the original title for this fic was a placeholder for the document itself; the current title is just the placeholder name spelled out instead of in abbreviated form. Also, I'm aware that I spell faeries/fairies multiple ways; the former refers mostly to the specific species in this fic, while the latter refers to the creatures within a mythical/lore context.**


	5. Chapter Four

Garak swivelled away from the console to face the room.

"And how, pray tell, are you acquainted with the good doctor?" Garak inquired of his guest.

The silence was deafening. Garak laced his fingers in his lap and waited.

"I knew a Julian Bashir, once."

"That much is alarmingly apparent, my dear."

After another poignant silence, she spoke again.

"How much do you know about my people?" The question took Garak a moment to process.

"I'm afraid my knowledge in this subject is a bit lacking, though it pains me to admit it. I know only what I've been able to translate from the text Doctor Bashir gave me, and a few legends I've been able to find from Earth. Nothing very concrete and it's all positively dripping in metaphors and grandiose language; not a very concise record, I'm afraid."

"I see. Well, surely, you've at least heard of the Great War for Earth? Humans must at least mention it every once in a while?"

Garak blinked slowly.

"No, I'm afraid they don't," he admitted. His voice was softer, less harsh. "I understand the event you mean, because I've been translating this text, but most humans aren't aware of that point in their history, to my knowledge. They think it's a...myth."

"Aye," she responded, and her voice held nothing. No emotions, no sorrow, only an echo of tired emptiness. "And since we are myths, my people have no standing or protections, no rights to our ancestral land."

Garak nodded and gestured for her to continue.

"A long, long time ago, a few decades after the first treaty with the humans, my people realized that the humans weren't going to leave us alone. We could sign all the treatises in the worlds, but human expansion wasn't going to be stopped. They were.. bloodthirsty, brutal. They reproduced faster than we could ever dream of. If we destroyed one army, ten years later three armies came for us. So, my people devised a plan. Several Watchers were bound to various objects with our arcane sciences, and these objects were entrusted to the few human families that we felt we could trust. I was one of the last Watchers before the Great Goodbye."

Garak processed this information with a tilt of the head.

"Arcane sciences?" he queried.

"Mm," she replied, an affirmation. "Our energetic nature affords us an understanding of the universe that humans at the time couldn't begin to comprehend. They called us sorcerors and labled our sciences as magic, but to us they came as naturally as breathing. I don't know if humans have even caught up to our understanding of layered spaces, but that's not even my point."

"Why didn't your people simply destroy the humans?" Garak asked.

The silence this time was defeaning, damning.

"Despite our differences, humans had just as much right to live as any other species," she eventually replied. "Genocide was never and will never be an option for my people."

Garak responded with an inclination of his head.

"But you were saying, my dear? Watchers, wars, something about anchors no doubt?"

"Ah, yes, the book." A wry laugh accompanied this statement. "I was one of the last Watchers assigned a family before my people left Earth entirely. Their plan was to explore the stars and find a new home; theoretically, they would return for those of us who were left behind. In the meantime, I spent my new life in servitude of the humans who kept the anchor of my being, in my case the book of records in your possesion.

"It was obvious after just a few generations that only human children and the very gifted were able to see the vibrations of the plane to which I am bound; with enough concentration, I can interact with the physical plane, but I usually only bothered to be awake around the children. I watched countless generations of children grow and learn about their world. I was their first friend and mentor, but every one of them forgot me or thought of me as their 'imaginary childhood friend.'"

Garak felt his eyebrow raising.

"And Julian was one of those children?" Garak asked. His voice held incredulity.

"Aye, the last of those children," she replied. "Jules was...he was a beautiful child. Though he spent more time playing with me than he should have. I realized that he was different from most children that I'd met; he began to speak later than they did, and his conversations were nonsensical at best, gibberish on the worst days. I vowed to protect him all of his life, until..."

Garak waited, but the silence stretched on.

"Until?" Garak prompted.

"One day, Julian and his family left. He told me goodbye, and he was really excited. He was going to the stars, and his mother and father had been planning this trip for a while. I told him to have a safe trip, that I would see him when he returned. They never returned. I waited in that house for years for them to return. Every few months, I put forth the effort to clean and repair anything in the house that was failing. After ten years, I knew that they weren't coming back. I decided to deactivate the projecting functions of my anchor, and effectively have been asleep ever since. Or at least until your Cardassian moonlight coaxed me awake."

Garak processed this all with a closed expression.

"I think," he began, "that perhaps we should pay the good doctor a visit."

"Oh?" she replied. "A trip to the stars? How lovely! But...who will care for the Llylmarrissa? She gets lonely when you're gone, you know. No one else speaks to her like you do."

Garak made a face.

"I will leave strict instructions with my staff to...read to the Llylmarrissa. Would this be acceptable?"

Aisling laughed, and mirth filled the room along with the tinkling bell-like sound.

"I think she'll find that quite acceptable," she agreed.

"Very well, then. I will make arangements and as soon as I can be free, we will head to Deep Space Nine, home of Doctor Julian Bashir."

IV END CHAPTER IV

**Author's Notes: Not a lot going on in this one, mostly just fill in the blank backstory and a bit of set-up.****As always, a big shout out to anyone who reads, follows, favorites, or reviews!! You make my day when I get that notification. Until next time.****\--srf.**


	6. Chapter Five

Over the next few days, Garak made arrangements to have proxies complete his work, or to have it sent to him via subspace as he traveled. Aisling was relatively quiet in the evenings, only speaking of his garden and the plans for Cardassia. She would divulge no further information about her people or her circumstances, claiming that all would be made clear in time.

After about a week, the time came to make the trip to DS9. Garak carefully stowed the Bashir tome in his bags and he boarded the old freighter. Several bigger, newer ships were also departing Cardassia at the same time, each rumored to carry the famed Elim Garak, savior of Cardassia (Garak's mouth went dry every time he heard that, he wasn't a savior, he was simply a man, a tailor, a gardener--a murderer).

As he settled into his lodgings for the short trip, Aisling's voice greeted him.

"This isn't a very comfortable room," she observed.

"No, no it's not," Garak agreed as he sat heavily on the thin mattress. "But it is discreet."

"I see," Aisling replied.

Garak nodded as he swung his feet up onto the bunk with his torso.

"Yes, and I would like to try to get some rest," Garak said.

"I see," she repeated.

Garak felt his eyes close heavily; worry for his homeland and intrigue for Bashir's mystery warred with a deep need for rest. As sleep began to take him, he heard Aisling begin to sing. Before he could ask her what the song was called, he faded into the deep.

\--

An alarm chimed, and Garak's eyes flew open. For a moment, he was taken with confusion. The gray ceiling above him wasn't his home; he tensed.

"Good morning," a sardonically cheerful voice told him. "Did you sleep well?"

The events prior came rushing back to Garak, and he felt his frame relax back into the mattress.

"Not particularly," he replied. Garak sat up and reached for the bag at the foot of the bed. "And how have you fared on this trip, my dear?"

"Eh, it's been alright," Aisling said. "The stars are beautiful, but staring at them for hours on end gets a little...boring. Since everything here is run with your electrical technology, there's really nothing else I can do."

Garak made a noncommital noise, already absorbed in the reports on the Padd in his hand. Suddenly, a force slapped the padd from his hands to the floor.

"At least speak to me before you get caught up in your work," Aisling said with not a small bit of spite.

Garak sighed.

"My apologies," he said, spreading his hands wide. "And what would you like to talk about?"

"Tell me about Doctor Bashir," she said.

"Well, that is a story, indeed," Garak replied. He began to tell her accounts of his adventures on Deep Space Nine, of literary luncheons with the human doctor and of the nature of their relationship. Garak intentionally left out mentions of any true friendship, of how much the doctor meant to him, and of any escapades they had made together beyond the normal activities on the space station.

Aisling listened and commented here and there, asking for clarifications when the conversation mentioned Cardassian or obscure Earth literature.

After a time, Garak had exhausted his allowance for small talk, and he fell silent.

"Cardassia will be fine without you for a few weeks," Aisling said suddenly.

Garak flinched.

"I don't think--" he began, but she cut him off.

"Garak, I've had a lifetime to observe others, don't think you can hide from me how much you care about your homeworld," Aisling said. The padd from she had knocked to the floor lifted and set down on the bed next to Garak. "Work, if you need to, but try not to worry so much."

Garak nodded, grateful that she hadn't noticed or simply failed to mention that Cardassia was only part of what was troubling him; Garak was torn by the thought of Doctor Bashir's engagement.

Garak picked up the padd and threw himself into his work with a maddening fervor.

V END CHAPTER V

**Author's Notes: Finally, we're off Cardassia! As of yet, the action does not return to Cardassia, and isn't planned to. As always, big shoutout to anyone who reads, favorites, follows, or reviews! Till next time!****\--srf.**


	7. Chapter Six

Aisling slept fitfully. The electric currents generated by the old freighter rushed through her, causing her muscles to jump and jitter. Her dreams were frantic nightmares, running from mobs of humans with torches and chasing down endless stretches of mechanical hallways.

Aisling woke with a start. She scrubbed her face with her hands before she took in her surroundings.

Garak was asleep again, the padd dangling precariously from his fingertips. Aisling stood and concentrated on her fingertips, and she slipped the device out of his hand and into his bag.

She stretched and turned to stare out of the small window at the stars. Countless points of light greeted her, and Aisling wondered where among them her people had landed.

It is linear.*

Aisling spun around, scanning for the source of the voice.

"Who's there?" she called out. Garak grunted in his sleep and turned.

It is not corporeal.*

Aisling turned again, this time back to the window.

"Who are you?" she asked, her voice lower this time.

It is NOT of Bajor.*

Aisling felt a rush through her body and she saw a great flash of light. Suddenly, the pains from the electrical energies left her body. Aisling found herself standing in a place of bright, white light.

"Who are you?" she demanded again.

"Who are /you?/" The voice came from behind her, and Aisling spun.

She hissed and crouched low as she saw the imposing figure of a Starfleet officer; the red of command paired with the dark grey of a wartime uniform.

"I am Aisling," she informed him. "Why have you brought me here?"

"Why have you come here?" His voice was as musical as his dark skin was gleaming.

"I have been brought here against my will," Aisling stated clearly.

It is linear, yet it is not coporeal.*

The Starfleet officer looked around him, then back to Aisling.

"The Prophets have brought you here," he informed her.

"Prophets?" she asked.

It is trapped.*

The officer tilted his head at this information.

"If she's trapped, we should free her, shouldn't we?"

"Free me? How so--" Aisling was cut off by an abrupt, searing pain.

She screamed, and her vision was reduced to a recreation of the starlit window from before.

She felt hands shaking her, and she screamed as agony swept through her.

At some point, she stopped screaming. Her vision grew grey around the edges, and finally she sank into darkness.

\--

Garak shook the woman again, and her eyes rolled back. She went limp in his arms.

Garak called a medical team to his quarters as he lifted the woman onto the bunk. He also slipped his phaser into his hand from his bag, discreetly hiding it in his sleeve.

Garak was startled when a transporter beam activated directly in his quarters; he aimed the phaser at the figure but let his hand drop as Doctor Bashir appeared.

"Garak," Julian said in a brief greeting as he hurried to the unconscious woman's side. "What happened?"

"Doctor Bashir," Garak said with a nod. "I have no idea. I was sleeping, on my way to the station, and I awoke to find this young lady screaming in my quarters."

"Who is she?" Julian asked as he scanned her with various medical devices.

"I don't know," Garak admitted darkly. "When I went to sleep, I was quite alone."

Julian glanced at Garak in a brief moment of disbelief. Julian shook his head and returned his attention to the tricorder. He shut his equipment with a snap and shook his head.

"All of her vital signs appear normal, but I still want to get her to the Infirmary as soon as possible." Julian pressed his combadge and it beeped. "Bashir here. Two--make that three to beam directly to the Infirmary."

Garak inclined his head as the room shimmered away before them.

After they materialized in the Infirmary, Bashir bustled around, setting his patient in a bed and giving instructions to his nurses.

A few minutes later, Julian approached Garak.

"Garak," Julian said in a low voice, emphasizing every syllable. "Who is she?"

"I've already told you, Doctor, I have no idea," Garak replied. "But that's not why I'm here to see you," he reminded the doctor.

"Garak, that will have to wait," Bashir said. "I have no idea what's wrong with this woman."

As he said this, the patient in question moaned. Julian walked swiftly to her side just in time to see her eyes open. Julian blinked and rubbed his eyes--the first moment her eyes opened, it seemed that he knew this woman. Her eyes, a beautiful composition of red and green and ochre, seemed to trigger a memory from long ago. Bashir pushed the thought away with a sterile wave of medical responsibility.

The woman coughed and she seemed to focus on his face.

"Can you hear me?" Bashir asked softly, and she nodded.

"J-" she tried to speak but devolved into a coughing fit.

"Don't try to speak," Bashir warned her. "I'm not sure what it was, but it seems that you've been through quite a trauma."

Despite his warning, she gathered her concentration and tried again.

"G-garak," she muttered. Her voice was harsh and brittle.

"He's here," Julian said as he stepped back. "Do you know where you are?"

The woman slowly shook her head. Each moment seemed to grant her a new strength, and she tried to sit up.

"Woah, woah, easy!" Julian commanded. He eased his patient back down to a resting position as a coughing wracked her frame. "Alright, race hound, calm down."

At that moment, two Barjoran security officers appeared in the doorway.

Julian ordered his nurse to administer a sedative and he stepped away to speak with the deputies. Julian gestured for Garak to join them.

"You said you don't know this woman?" Julian inquired.

"I don't," Garak confirmed. "As I said, when I went to sleep, the room was sealed and I was the only one in it. You can check the records, if you'd like."

"Actually," one of the deputies began, "the records of that chamber are corrupted for thirty minutes before the incident. They show you working, then they skip to Doctor Bashir beaming in. We were hoping you could help clarify what happened in between."

"I'm afraid not," Garak replied. "I assure you, I am just as mystified as the rest of you."

The deputies asked a few more questions, some of Garak and some of the doctor, before they left to file their reports.

"Now, Garak," Julian said. "Won't you join me in my office?"

Garak inclined his head gracefully and gestured for Julian to lead the way.

VI END CHAPTER VI

**Author's Notes: Finally, some things actually happen. As always, a big shoutout to anyone who reads, faborites, follows, or reviews! You guys are the real MVPs!!**


	8. Chapter Seven

"Garak, what is going on?" Julian demanded.

Garak smiled wryly.

"That is a good question, doctor. If only I had an answer for you."

Julian stared at his friend.

"You weren't alone in that room, were you?" Julian asked.

Garak's eyes twinkled.

"Quite observant of you, doctor. You are correct, in a manner of speaking. Aisling was with me in that room, but she hasn't deigned to speak to me since the incident. If she does decide to illuminate, she might prove quite useful in finding our truth."

"Aisling?" Julian queried. "The...guest you were telling me about?"

"Quite," Garak agreed. He set the bag on his shoulder onto Julian's desk and withdrew the old, weathered tome. He offered it to Julian. "I believe this is yours?"

Julian took the book and set it down on his desk.

"Garak," he began. "What will we do?"

"We?" Garak asked, rather incredulously. "I'm not sure there is a, 'We,' here, doctor. It seems to me that your people have a decision to make; either delve into their history and admit their mistakes, or continue to ignore this dark chapter of humanity's past."

Julian nodded.

"You're right, of course."

"Tell me, doctor, how is your lovely bride-to-be?" Garak inquired. Julian smiled.

"Dax is doing well," he replied. "She's taking the certification test for her next ranking in a few weeks; she's been studying nonstop. In fact, I swear, every time I turn around she's analyzing every move I make." Julian chuckled indulgently. "She can't help it, I suppose."

"Indeed," Garak agreed with a nod.

"J-julian," a voice came from the door.

Bashir and Garak spun to face the source of the interruption; the woman from the freighter stood shakily in the doorway, with a nurse hovering right behind her.

Julian waved the nurse away as he stood, and he walked the woman to the chair he'd just vacated.

"You shouldn't be walking," he admonished.

"And you shouldn't be sassing," she quipped glibly.

Garak smiled serenely, even as he tensed.

"And to what do we owe the pleasure of this unexpected visit?" Garak asked without preamble.

The woman ignored him, and instead she regarded Julian. She looked him up and down before she nodded.

"Is there something I can do for you?" Bashir asked hesitantly.

"Smile," the woman replied. Julian complied, though the smile was a baffled and guarded one. The woman grinned in reply. "There's my Jules," she said.

Garak's eyebrows winged up as he connected the dots, but Julian stepped back in alarm.

"Have we met?" he asked cautiously.

"Ah, doctor," Garak interupted. Julian turned to regard him. "I believe I do have an idea as to our lady friend's true identity."

Julian gestured for him to speak, and the woman looked on with a small smile.

"I believe we are speaking with our friend, Miss Aisling," Garak related.

Julian stared in shock, first at Garak, then at the woman in his chair.

"Is this true?" Bashir asked of her. She nodded, beaming now.

"You have made quite a nice life for yourself, haven't you, Jules?" she asked.

"Stop--don't call me that!" Julian admonished. She grinned wider.

"Alright then, Julian, if you prefer," she replied.

"'Doctor Bashir,' will do nicely," Julian informed her, somewhat primly.

Garak was also grinning now, and Julian felt like there was a joke that he wasn't understanding.

"What's going on?" Bashir demanded.

Aisling stood shakily and put her hands on her hips--Julian felt another echo of memory.

"Is that any way to greet an old friend?" she demanded with a wag of her finger and a cluck of her tongue.

Julian was flabbergasted.

"I don't know you," he protested.

"Ah, but once you did," Aisling replied. Her voice took a lyrical lilt that called up images of green pastures and cozy forest glens--Julian felt memories tugging at his mind, buried under years of repression but begging to be acknowledged.

He blinked, slowly.

"No," he muttered. Aisling nodded.

"It's me, Jules," she said warmly.

Julian shook his head as more memories came tumbling around in his mind. Memories of dancing, of playing and laughing, of talking to someone he could see but his parents never could.

"Au-auntie?" he asked, incredlously.

Aisling nodded, and she held her arms wide to invite an embrace.

Julian found himself hugging her tightly, inhaling the scent of his childhood. She smelled of cookies, and herbs, and of green growing things--of sweetness and life.

"What--what's going on?" Julian asked again after they parted.

Aisling ducked her head.

"That...that question will probably take longer to answer than it should," she admitted. She yawned suddenly. "But the long and the short of it is, for some reason I have been returned to my coporeal state."

"Yes, I can see that," Julian replied. "But what--how--who are you?" he asked.

Aisling opened her mouth to reply, but she was taken with another jaw cracking yawn.

"Perhaps it would be best," Garak interjected, "if we gave our lovely friend some quarters in which to rest? I can fill you in on the details while she catches up on some much needed sleep."

Aisling nodded gratefully, even as she yawned again.

"Yes, I, y-yes," Julian stammered. He pressed his combadge and spoke with Colonel Kira. A few moments later, Kira informed Bashir of the location of his guest's quarters--the room adjacent to Garak's, as it happened to be.

Garak volunteered to bring Aisling to her quarters, and Julian nodded dumbly.

"Well, my good doctor," Garak said brightly. "Shall I meet you for lunch in say, oh, an hour or so?"

"Yes," Julian said absently. "Yes, that sounds...nice."

Garak nodded regally, and he led Aisling from the room.

VII END CHAPTER VII

**Author's Notes: Finally, we're on DS9. As always, a big thanks to everyone who reads, follows, favorites, or reviews!! Y'all are the best.**

Editted to fix a few typos/errors.


	9. Chapter Eight

"And you said you know this woman?" Ezri asked.

Julian nodded, lost in thought.

"Julian, what's going on?"

Julian's gaze shifted to meet Dax's eyes.

"It's a long story," he began.

"Well, you better get started, then," Dax responded, somewhat testily. Julian nodded.

The two of them were dining in their shared quarters. Earlier that day, Garak had told Julian everything he had discovered about the fey and the ancient war, about Aisling and her connection to the Bashir family. Julian wondered where to begin.

"Have you ever heard of faeries?" Julian asked his fiancee.

"Faeries?" Dax replied. "Sure. They're creatures from Earth legend. Ancient tales paint them as fierce warriors and practioners of magic, but newer myths show them to be cute and mostly harmless. Why, Julian, what's that got to do with anything?"

Julian fell pensively silent.

"Julian?" Dax prodded. Julian looked up, and Ezri's eyes showed hurt.

"I'm sorry, Ezri, this is just...a lot to take in," he apologized. She covered her hand with his and smiled gently.

"It's ok, I just want to help you," she replied. Julian nodded.

"Ok, well, a long time ago there was a war on Earth," Julian began.

Ezri nodded.

"Yes, there were a lot of wars on Earth," she agreed. Julian shook his head.

"Not like this one," he admitted. "At one point, there were two sentient species that resided on Earth."

Dax's stared.

"What?" she said.

"I know," Julian agreed. "But anyway, a long time ago, humans drove out the other species. They were known to my people as faeries, among other names."

Ezri shook her head.

"Ok, Julian, I think you need to get more sleep," Ezri commented. "Those are just fairytails."

Julian laughed bitterly at the irony of her statement.

"Yes, ifairy/itails," he agreed. "Only they happen to be true, evidently. During their Exodus, through means I still don't understand, they left what they called Watchers with human families. Some hundred or so of these Watchers were left on Earth to see if humans ever became more welcoming to faerykind."

Ezri nodded, but her eyes were guarded.

"I'm not crazy, you know," Julian commented darkly.

"I know, Julian, but...you've been under so much stress lately, with your projects and the wedding. Maybe we should postpone--"

"No," Julian cut her off, grabbing her hands in his. He brought each hand to his lips and kissed them in turn. "No, I don't want to postpone the wedding," he told her.

"Ok, Julian, but...faeries?"

Julian laughed again, bitterly.

"Trust me, I know," he agreed wryly. "But anyway, apparently my family was one of the lucky few to inherent a faery Watcher, in the form of an ancient book."

"A book," Ezri repeated.

"Yes, I know," Julian said again. "Apparently humans still aren't advanced enough to understand the basic sciences that govern the fey's existance. Somehow, they bound the Watchers to various, 'anchors,' and locked them in noncorporeal form. Only children and the very gifted are supposedly able to see them in this way."

"And this Aisling, you think she was your imaginary friend Auntie?"

Julian nodded.

"Only, as I'm finding now, Auntie was never imaginary."

They sat silently for a few moments before Ezri spoke again.

"Julian, this is--"

"Crazy, I know," Julian finished for her. Ezri shrugged, not able to refute the statement. "Trust me, Ezri, I realize how insane I sound. If it wasn't for Garak, I don't think I would believe it, either."

"Garak," Ezri repeated, and her voice was less than pleased.

"Yes," Julian agreed. "He contacted me, a few weeks ago."

"Yes, you told me about that," Ezri said. "You mentioned he was coming to the wedding."

"Yes, I did," Julian said. "What I didn't mention at the time was that he...he informed me that I had sent him a houseguest."

Ezri's eyebrows winged upward.

"A houseguest?"

"That was my intial reaction," Julian admitted. "But the more I've studied Earth myths, the more I realized how very possible this whole scenario really is. I think this war really did happen; it's depicted in too many disparate mythos from my planet. Aisling's appearance only strengthens this conclusion."

Ezri sipped wine as she thought.

"What are you going to do?" she asked quietly.

"The only thing I can do," Julian replied. "I have to inform Starfleet."

"They'll never believe you," Ezri replied. Julian nodded.

"I know, but I have to try."

VIII END CHAPTER VIII

**Author's Notes: I've always enjoyed sci-fi and fantasy--the chance to write a fantasy situation in a sci-fi light is part of what prompted me to actually write this fic. I want to stay true to the nature of the fae, and Star Trek has enough weirdness in canon that it allows me the freedom to do so. I really hope you guys keep enjoying. A suuuper big shout out to anyone who reads, follows, favorites, or especially reviews. I can't stress enough how big you guys make me smile.**


	10. Chapter Nine

A few weeks had passed since Aisling's arrival and Doctor Bashir's subsequent report, and no word had come from Starfleet. Garak and Ezri danced around each other, vying for the doctor's time--Aisling happily ignored the lot of them.

Instead, she spent most of her time perched on a barstool in Quark's, sipping spring wine and munching delicately on sand peas. She observed the ebb and flow of the station mostly in peace, though occasionally she was bothered by a fellow patron or a waiter.

Now, the proprietor himself hovered above her table. He smiled at her as he set another glass of wine before her.

"And may I inquire, how does the lady plan to settle her debts?" Quark asked delicately.

Aisling smiled warmly at him, and she placed a single slip of latinum on the table.

Quark inclined his head and took the payment.

"That's a start," he said. "Could I perhaps interest you in some time in a holosuite?"

Aisling shook her head as she took a small sip of wine--and she spit it out at once.

"What is this?" she demanded, catching the bartender by the arm as he went to leave.

"What do you mean?" Quark asked with a placating smile. "It's the finest spring wine our replicators can handle--many Bajorans enjoy the lovely vintage."

Aislig shoved the glass away from her with a grimace.

"Take it away," she demanded. "And bring me something--anything--that's not replicated."

Quark took the glass and inclined his head, stepping away.

"The wine is not to your taste? Garak asked, walking in from the Promenade.

Aisling frowned and fought the urge to wipe her tongue.

"It's been replicated," she complained.

"And this bothers you," Garak surmised as he took the seat opposite hers.

Aisling nodded and shuddered.

"It's terrible! I don't see how you people can eat or drink any of that stuff; the molocules taste like paste."

"Oh?" Garak asked with a tilt of his head.

"Yes, the way they vibrate is bizzare and unnatural, and I don't care what it is, all replicated matter tastes like garbage," she ranted quietly.

"I'll keep that in mind," Quark said as he returned with a bottle of kanar. He set two glasses and the bottle on the table before them.

"What a lovely year," Garak commented with a raised brow. He turned to look at Quark. "And quite an expensive one."

Quark shrugged galantly and replied, "The lady has fine taste."

Aisling rolled her eyes as she poured a glass.

"And he thinks the lady is loaded," she commented to Garak wryly.

"I never said anything of the sort," Quark protested, and Aisling laughed suddenly.

Conversations in the bar died as the tinkling laughter rang through the room; several people turned toward the sound and smiled.

Garak found himself smiling as well, though only partly in reaction to the palpable mirth; the scene unfolding before him was quite amusing in its own right.

"Oh, it wasn't an insult," Aisling told Quark with a grin. "In fact, I think you're quite charming."

Quark's ears perked at the compliment.

"Charming?" he asked. Aisling nodded as she sipped her kanar; she smiled approvingly and lifted her glass in a toast.

"To greed," she said with a smile. Quark grinned and bowed.

"To greed," he agreed. Quark bustled off to tend another table, and Garak stared at Aisling.

"You actually like that little man?" Garak asked under his breath.

Aisling giggled, a much quieter version of her usual mirth.

"Yes, I think I do," she replied. "He reminds me a bit of some fellows I used to know. They guarded secrets of the Earth, and they were known for their greed. But really, isn't greed another form of protection?"

"Protection? How so?" Garak asked.

"Well, greed drives people to collect things, to keep them. To keep them safe, even. Greed is better than fear or loathing or hate; a modest amount of greed is even good for the soul. It stimulates a need to move beyond what is now and into what is to come."

Garak held his own glass up to her words, before he took a sip.

"I think you give Quark far too much credit," Garak claimed. Aisling nodded.

"Perhaps," she admitted. "But if a few compliments keep the kanar flowing, I can spin a yarn with the best of them."

Garak smiled, his eyes twinkling.

"I see," he replied.

The next day, Quark's was mostly devoid of customers. A few chattering couples littered the higher level and one solitary gambler chanced the dabo wheel.

Aisling perched on a stool at the gleaming bar, mostly ignoring the yammering of the resident barfly on her left. She was staring out at the Promenade, her mind on the Bajoran shrine. The day before, a vedek had invited her to services. Aisling hadn't attended, but she was debating whether or not to pay an imprimptu visit today.

After only a few days on Deep Space Nine, Aisling had learned much of the Prophets--the gods and protectors of the Bajoran peoples. The Starfleet man she had seen before had referred to Prophets, saying they had brought her to the shining place where they'd met.

Julian and Garak had put their heads together, but had come to no possible conslusion as to why Aisling was no longer locked in the incoporeal plane. Aisling had neglected to mention the shining encounter to anyone, choosing to keep her own counsel for the time being.

Aisling stood suddenly, causing Morn to fall silent.

"That's fascinating," she said absently as she patted his shoulder. Aisling strode out of Quark's and down the Promenade.

She turned to the Bajoran shrine and contemplated. Currently, it was empty, as she'd deliberately chosen to visit in between services.

"Having a crisis of faith?" a voice asked behind her. Aisling turned and inclined her head at the Bajoran woman behind her--a corporal, by her insignia.

"I was curious," Aisling admitted. "I've never been in a Bajoran shrine."

The corporal nodded.

"A lot of folks who come here haven't. I'm Corporal Kira," the woman told her.

"I am known as Aisling," she replied with a nod. Aisling turned back to look at the shrine.

"Would you like me to show you around?" Kira asked.

Aisling turned to regard Kira again; she pondered her next actions.

"Yes," Aisling said at last. "And if it's not too much trouble, I do have a few questions..."

Kira nodded, striding forward.

"I'd be happy to help in any way I can," Kira replied.

They walked into the shrine together, and a sudden cold wind swept through the room.

Aisling shuddered even as Kira tensed and whirled, ready for an attack from any side.

"What was *that*?" Kira wondered aloud.

Aisling blinked and stared around her. The small room was well lit with candles, and a lingering scent of incense perfumed the air. Aisling walked towards the back of the room; something compelled her, something was calling her from a room just beyond this one. She could feel it. Kira caught her arm to hold her back.

"What's wrong?" Aisling asked distantly.

"Something's not right..." Kira muttered. Suddenly, a vedek appeared from an adjacent chamber.

"Welcome, my children," she murmured with a smile. "Have you come to consult the orb?"

Kira tilted her head; it wasn't exactly customary to offer an orb experience on someone's first trip to the shrine.

Aisling, however, simply walked forward and offered both of her hands to the vedek; the vedek took them both in her own hands.

"Yes, I think I am," Aisling replied.

The vedek nodded deeply, and she drew Aisling to the rear door.

"Thank you, Corporal," the vedek murmured with a smile at Kira. "Your task here is complete."

Kira stared at the now empty room.

"What just happened?" she wondered aloud.

IX END CHAPTER IX

**Author's Notes: One of my favorite little tidbits about DS9 is that Morn is possibly the most long-winded character (by the other character's descriptions), yet he never has even one line. Thank you, thank you, thank you for reading this far! A big shoutout to everyone who favorites, follows, or reviews--you guys are the bee's knees. Next chapter is chapter ten!!**


	11. Chapter Ten

Aisling followed the vedek into a small chamber with an ornate chest on a pedestal. The vedek gestured for her to step forward, and as she did the vedek disengaged a force field using a nearby control panel.

Aisling stepped forward and looked at the vedek. The vedek smiled and nodded.

"Open it," the vedek prompted.

Aisling reached forward and touched the box--it took her a few moments to realize the hinges swung outward, not upward. She opened the box and gazed at the shimmering light within--and suddenly she was surrounded by a familiar blinding brightness.

Aisling breathed in the exhilarating brightness for a few moments, adjusting to the sudden change.

"Hello," Aisling called out.

"You again?" a familiar voice responded.

Aisling turned and saw the same Starfleet officer from before.

"Hello," Aisling repeated, this time speaking directly to the man before her.

The man inclined his head in response, but his eyebrow was quirked up in question.

"I wanted to ask: why did you do this to me?" Aisling asked.

"Would you rather go back to how you were?" the man asked in a musical lilt, and Aisling shook her head vigorously.

"No, please," she said quickly. "But...if, in any small part, I could repay you, I would do all in my power."

"Repay me?" the man asked.

*The Sisko should tell her.*

The man looked around, weighing the words spoken aloud around them.

"Tell me what?" Aisling asked.

"Yes, tell her what, exactly?" the man queried.

*The Sisko should tell her of the cloud.*

"Cloud?" Aisling responded.

"Ah," the man said. "Yes. The cloud. A darkness approaches Bajor, one that the people are not prepared to face."

"And what does this have to do with me?" Aisling asked.

"Yes, what does this have to do with her?" the man asked aloud, looking about him again.

*Bajor will stand strong. She will protect Bajor.*

"Protect Bajor?" the man queried.

Aisling, however, nodded deeply.

"As you say, so it shall be," Aisling intoned deeply. "I will, to the best of my ability, protect Bajor."

"What?" the officer said.

*So it shall be.*

With another great flash of blinding light, Aisling found herself back in the Bajoran shrine.

Aisling closed the box, and her legs began to shake. The vedek smiled at her and walked closer. Aisling smiled back, even as her legs collapsed beneath her.

The vedek caught her with an alarmed shout; Colonel Kira came rushing in at the noise.

With the help of the Colonel and the vedek, Aisling regained her feet.

"I have a question," Aisling said.

"Yes, my child?" the vedek asked.

"What's a Sisko?" Aisling replied.

The vedek and Colonel Kira shared a poignant look around Aisling.

"That would be me," a familiar voice toned from behind them.

Aisling suddenly found herself unsuported as both the vedek and Colonel Kira whirled to the source of the intrusion.

"Captain!" Colonel Kira exclaimed.

"Emissary," the vedek intoned reverently.

Aisling turned to see the Starfleet officer (a captain, evidently) being helped to stand by both Bajoran women. He brushed himself off and hugged both of them in turn.

Aisling saw small spots of gray shortly before her legs buckled underneath her.

"Woooah," the captain said as he stepped forward.

Whatever happened next, Aisling couldn't say, as her world was eaten by darkness.

X END CHAPTER X

**Author's Notes: Wooooo, chapter ten! Woo, Sisko! Woo, some action! As always, a great big shoutout to anyone who reads, favorites, follows, or reviews. Seeya in chapter eleven!**


	12. Chapter Eleven

Aisling opened her eyes to see the Infirmary ceiling, again. She blinked slowly as she struggled to gather her wits.

"You're awake," Doctor Bashir said as he walked to her side. "How are you feeling?"

Aisling looked at Bashir and considered the question.

"You tell me," she said. Her voice was hoarse, and her throat was dry.

Bashir smiled wryly down at her.

"Better," he told her. "You've been out for a few days."

"Days?!" Aisling exclaimed. She tried to sit up, and her world spun queasily again.

"Eaaasy," Bashir ordered, settling her back down on the bed. "You need to rest. Here," he handed her a glass of water and helped her to drink it through a small straw. Aisling made a face, but she accepted the replicated liquid to soothe the burning in her throat.

"What happened?" Aisling asked.

"I was actually hoping you could tell me," Bashir admitted.

Aisling slowly shook her head.

"The last thing I remember is collapsing in the shrine," she muttured.

Bashir nodded.

"Yes, due to some sort of severe neural shock," he confirmed. "Not exactly a typical reaction to an orb experience."

"But right before, was--did--who all was there?" she finally asked.

Bashir looked down at her and carefully considered his choice of words.

"There was a third person, besides me, wasn't there?" Aisling prompted again.

"Yes," Julian admitted. "Yes, right before you passed out, Vedek Hilla and Colonel Kira report that they saw someone in the shrine."

Aisling turned her head to stare directly at Julian. He felt sweat bead on the back of his neck from the intensity of the look.

"Jules," Aisling said simply.

"What?" Julian asked. He fought the urge to rub his neck. "Ok, I admit, they didn't just see someone--Captain Sisko has returned. All of Bajor is celebrating the return of their Emissary, but I don't see what that has to do with you."

Aisling sat up slowly and brushed away the doctor's efforts to settle her back down.

"It has to do with me," she began in a voice breathy with nausea, "because he will tell me what the cloud threatening Bajor is."

Julian blinked slowly.

"What?"

Aisling shook her head again and immediately regretted it.

"Nevermind," she muttered. "When can I leave here?" she asked.

"I'm not exactly sure," Julian admitted. "Not yet, maybe not for a few more days."

Aisling puffed out an exasperated breath.

"No good," she muttered. "I need to see this Captain Sisko."

"What you need to do is rest," Julian pressed. Aisling waved her hand absently at him.

"I'll be fine," she said. She pressed a hand to her forehead and sighed. Aisling placed both hands on the bed and twisted herself until her feet draped toward the floor.

Julian tittered and admonished her, but Aisling paid him no mind as she shakily took her feet. A nurse hovered with a sedative, but Doctor Bashir shook his head nearly imperceptibly.

"If you're going to go charging about the station, at least wait for someone to walk with you," Julian said as Aisling took a few steps toward the door.

"And where are you going?" a familiar musical lilt called from the door.

"Captain," Bashir called out. Aisling sighed in relief and she stepped back to the bed; she sat heavily and her legs began to shake.

"I was...coming to see you," Aisling said, putting great effort into making her voice level.

The captain held his hands wide.

"And here I am," he said. Aisling smiled wearily.

"Here you are," she agreed.

"So, you're really here," Sisko said.

Aisling smiled wryly.

"In the flesh," she agreed. Sisko inclined his head.

"Would you mind explaining exactly how you plan on protecting Bajor?" he asked.

"That all depends," Aisling said. "How much can you tell me about this, 'cloud?'"

Sisko considered her words for a few moments before he answered.

"The cloud approaching Bajor, it's...noncoporeal. Like you were, only it's not trapped there. I don't know what it is, but I do know that it intends to destroy my home."

Aisling's face became closed as she absorbed his words.

"The host," she said simply.

"Pardon?" Sisko asked. Aisling looked him in the eyes for several moments before she asked her next question.

"Captain, do you...have you any idea who or what I am?"

Sisko shook his head.

"You're some sort of life form that exists in multiple dimensions, I know that," Sisko replied.

Aisling laughed bitterly.

"I'm a faerie," she told him. His brow quirked. "Captain, there's...there's something you should know about Earth."

XII END CHAPTER XII


	13. Chapter Twelve

"So you're telling me that faeries really do exist, and that they are the ones threatening Bajor?" Captain Sisko's voice was incredulous.

"It would make sense," Aisling replied. "I can't prove that this cloud of yours is actually a faerie host, but I'm nearly certain of it."

"So what are we going to do about it?" Sisko asked, turning to regard the senior staff gathered with them in the wardroom.

"What sort of assault are we talking about?" Colonel Kira asked, leaning forward.

Sisko and the others assembled turned to face Aisling in question.

Aisling hesitated.

"That's...hard to anticipate," Aisling said carefully. "Undoubtedly, there will be radiation waves to disable the planetary communications network. It's possible that the host will choose to proceed further by exposing critical crops to blights, or perhaps even using methods best known to you as biogenic in nature."

It was Julian's turn to lean forward, his brow creased.

"The fey use biogenic weapons?" he asked.

Aisling shook her head.

"Not exactly," she admitted. "But they might choose to deliberately introduce pathogens or radiation to reduce reproduction rates or even to induce disease or death in a population."

Julian leaned back with an unsettled look.

"What kind of defensive measures can be taken?" Sisko asked.

Aisling shook her head.

"It's not something I can explain to you here, not even if I had a week," Aisling said. "Certain layered space principles come into play--I'm sorry, that's subspace to you. The exact methods we will need to use depends on which family or group is among the cloud. Each subset of fey vibrates at a different intersection of subspace, and that vibration will be the key to any defenses we might utilize."

It was Ezri's turn to lean forward now.

"I might be able to help," Ezri volunteered. "Several of my previous hosts were engineers and scientists."

Aisling nodded and turned to regard the counselor.

"How familiar are you with the subset clause of spatial relations?" Aisling asked.

As Ezri and Aisling discussed sensor adaptations and subspace physics, the rest of the senior staff looked on with a rather glazed look in their eyes. The exception was Julian; he was leaned forward, listening intently to every word.

"But what about the Hiyati Principle?" Julian interjected.

Aisling and Ezri both turned to look at him, and Aisling shook her head.

"That's not as relevant here as you'd think it might be," Aisling commented.

"Stop, stop," Sisko said, throwing his hands up against the onslaught of words. "Dax, I need you to continue working with Aisling, see if you can come up with a plan for us to run with. However, in the meantime..." Sisko smiled in a brilliant flash. "I'd like to invite you all to a party, tonight."

"A party, sir?" Colonel Kira repeated. Sisko nodded.

"Yes, because it is good to be _home_," Sisko elaborated. He stood and straightened his uniform. "Before I take my leave, is there anything else?"

The assembled officers all shook their heads.

"Then I am going to see my wife," Sisko said. "Dismissed."

Sisko's smile stretched from ear to ear as he shook the hand of every person to cross his doorstep. He called them by name, accepted cooked dishes and bottles of wine or spirits, and caught snippets of news or gossip as they entered.

Soon, the Captain's quarters were filled with a throng of people. Glasses clinked and wine flowed; snacks and hors deuvres dissapeared faster than Quark could refill them. The air was electric and conversations whirled in the close space.

Aisling stood in a far corner, lingering over a glass of spring wine from the Captain's personal stock. She watched the people ebb and flow, caught pieces of conversations that all seemed to center on the marvelous reappearance of Captain Sisko.

Aisling watched as a lanky young man came through the door--the spitting image of the captain. Sisko's grin widened (how was that possible? Didn't that hurt his face?) and he embraced the young man warmly.

"Jake!" the captain exclaimed. He drew back with his hands on the young man's shoulders and stared into his face for a few moments.

"Dad," Jake said with a warm smile. "It's so good to have you home. Have you seen Cassidy yet?"

On the heels of Jake's words, a woman emerged from a room at the back of the party holding a baby on one hip and a glass of wine in the other hand.

"Jake!" she called out with a smile. He flashed a grin in her direction.

"Cassidy!" Jake called out. Cassidy maneuvered through the crush of people, deftly sidestepping a pair of dancing Ferengi to stand by Captain Sisko's side.

"Look who's home, Guenna" Cassidy cooed to the baby on her hip.

"Oh," the captain said softly as he took the child--his child--from Cassidy. "Hey," Sisko said as he beamed down at his gurgling daughter.

"So, what's all this about a cloud coming to attack Bajor?" Cassidy asked.

"Mmm, not now," the captain murmured. "This is a celebration."

Cassidy's brows rose, but she didn't protest. Sisko smiled as he played peekaboo with Guenna, and Jake rolled his eyes at his father's antics.

"May as well give up asking him for now, he's made up his mind," Jake said. Cassidy nodded, exasperated.

"I noticed," she replied.

At that moment, Doctor Bashir walked in with another Starfleet officer--a slightly shorter, stockier man with a ruddy complexion and curly hair.

"I can't believe it," Jake muttered as he walked over quickly to shake the man's hand--and he wasn't the first to do so. "Chief!" Jake exclaimed when he finally reached the front of the impromptu line that had formed.

"Professor, actually," the other man replied with a grin. "But Chief suits me just fine."

Captain Sisko turned with a huge grin at the familiar voice.

"Miles O'Brien," Sisko said with relish; he shifted Guenna to his hip and offered the chief his opposite hand.

Chief O'Brien shook the captain's hand firmly.

"I didn't know you were back on the station," Miles commented. "Last I heard, you were still in the wormhole."

Sisko's brow rose and his grin became lopsided.

"I could say the same to you," Sisko replied. "Weren't you teaching on Earth?"

"Very true," Miles said. "I only came back for the wedding."

Now, Sisko's smile was quizzical.

"The wedding?" Sisko queried.

Upon hearing this, Julian's ears perked and he turned away from the conversation he'd been having with Morn.

"Ah, yes, ah, there wasn't really a lot of time to talk about personal news at the meeting, and uh--" Julian rambled on until Ezri stepped up behind him.

"Julian and I are getting married, Benjamin," she said, cutting through the doctor's ineffective chatter.

Sisko beamed, and he lifted Guenna up in front of him.

"Did you hear that?" Benjamin asked his daughter. "Aunt Dax is getting married!"

"Aunt Dax?" Ezri questioned, brow raised. Sisko just smiled back at her.

"You've been my friend through all these years, Old Man. I'd say you'll be like an aunt to Guenna," Sisko said.

Jake clapped his father on the shoulder and leaned into the conversation.

"Can I call you Aunt Dax?" Jake teased with a grin.

"Don't you dare," Ezri said; at the same time Benjamin replied, "You'd better."

The conclave gathered at the door burst into merry laughter, and other guests of the party turned to see the commotion.

"What are we still in the door for?" Sisko said. "Come in, come in. The party's just getting started."

XII END CHAPTER XII

**Author's Notes: Sooo I totally forgot to correct the Roman numerals at the end of the previous chapter hahaa... During the editing shuffle, it was at one point supposed to be chapter 12. I published it as chapter 11 but didn't fix the end chapter tag. Sooo. Yeah. As always, huge shoutout to everyone who's come this far! I don't know if I would have ever actually tried to finish this story without you guys. I love these characters (the canon ones) and I hope to do justice by them. See you next chapter! Thank you!**


	14. Chapter Thirteen

A Vulcan freighter opened its doors with a pnuematic hiss. The docking bay doors opened, and the freighter's passengers exited in a crush of people; civilians and Starfleet personal alike swarmed into the halls of Deep Space Nine. Among them was a woman of short stature with gleaming yellow eyes and tousled black hair. At first glance, she appeared to be human, but a small pair of furred ears perched amid her curls ruined that effect.

She shook the hand of a Bolian tourist she had befriended on the transit and smiled graciously. They parted ways, and the woman followed along behind the largest throng of people.

A few minutes later, she found herself in a large, open hallway with shops and kiosks on multiple levels. She grinned at the wide array of products and distractions on display, and she spied what must pass for the local watering hole--a multi-level affair called, 'Quark's.'

She walked into the establishment and took a seat in a fairly secluded corner. A particularly gaudy Ferengi walked up to her--from his distinctive clothing, she surmised that he must be the owner.

"Welcome to Quark's Bar and Grill," he said grandly; she nodded deeply in return. "Here at Quark's, we offer a wide array of refreshments and libations, as well as a full service holo-suite. Or perhaps the lady would care to place a wager? Dabo is a fascinating game, one that many species have learned to love."

The woman smiled but shook her head.

"The lady would like a drink," she said sardonically of herself. "What does the house reccomend? And nothing replicated, please."

Quark inclined his head, and he took the hint and his leave.

She turned her attention to the padd in front of her and began to list tasks to be accomplished; chief among them was attaining temporary lodging.

A few moments later, the Ferengi returned with a glass of delicately fizzing liquid. He placed it before her, and she held up a hand. A few moments later, she looked up and nodded again at him. Quark watched as she took a sip.

"This is a Bajoran spring wine," Quark informed her. "It's a prized vintage, some say the finest wine Bajor has produced since before the Occupation."

The wine was agreeable but did little to quench her thirst. She frowned at the fizzing drink.

"Do you have still water that hasn't been replicated?" she inquired.

Quark blinked slowly; the woman sighed.

"Nevermind. Perhaps something non-alcoholic? And not so terribly sweet?"

At this, Quark nodded and stepped away with a "one moment" wave.

The woman returned her attention to her padd for a few moments until he returned. She glanced up as Quark set down a tall, slender glass beaded with moisture. In it, a frothy blue liquid rested on a layer of bright yellow. She raised an eyebrow.

Quark held up a hand before she could question.

"But wait," he advised, "just taste."

She obligingly took a sip, and her eyebrows winged up. The liquid in the glass had a pure flavor similar to water but touched with the idea of something different. At first, it was like kissing citrus sunshine, then the aroma seamlessly blended into a wonderful bouquet of grassy herbs, and finally a taste like a clean lake breeze swept over the rest for a remarkably smooth finish.

"This is wonderful," she said, delighted.

"And expensive," Quark admitted easily, eyeing the glass in her hand. She nodded and took another sip.

"And may I ask, who do I have the pleasure of serving?" Quark asked.

She smiled.

"I am Aisling," she said.

"Aisling," Quark repeated. She nodded. "What a lovely name," he commented.

"And it is a wonderful establishment you have here," she replied. It was Quark's turn to nod.

"Tell me," Quark said companionably; she shifted her focus away from her work again with a quizzical look. "Do all Aislings hate replicators?"

The woman blinked slowly and set her glass down.

"All Aislings?" she asked carefully.

"Yes," Quark replied with a small shake of his head. "Just a few days ago, another lady of the same name expressed very similar requests; she had no preference of drink but she refused to take anything that was replicated." Quark shook his head again as he walked away to serve another customer.

"Bizzare," the woman commented for his benefit. She set the padd down before her and blinked again, slowly. "Another...Aisling?" she murmured to herself. "It couldn't be..."

"Captain, I'm getting some very strange readings," a woman seated at a comm panel announced. The captain of the vessel, a Starfleet officer with pale skin and yellow eyes, nodded for her to elaborate. "It seems that an unstable pocket of mietric radiation is appearing and disappearing at random."

"Intriguing," the captain murmured. "Helm, adjust shield harmonics to specified frequencies." He listed the adjustments readily.

The helmsman entered the new specs as the captain relayed them, making adjustments to the harmonic frequencies of the ship's shields.

"Now, bring us in closer," the captain instructed. He turned to face the Science Officer behind him. "Lieutenant Huford, make sure to scan the phenomenon with all available frequencies. Engine room," he said. The comm system beeped.

"Yes, Captain?" the Chief Engineer replied via comm system.

"Chief, watch the dilithium matrix and associated systems closely; alert me at any sign of mietric interference," the captain ordered.

"Sir?" the chief asked, bewildered. "But mietric radiation--"

"I am aware of the recorded effects mietric radiation has had on warp drive systems," the captain said, overriding the protests of the engineer. "We have adjusted our shield harmonics to compensate for the time being; we must take advantage of this opportunity to study such a rare phenomenon."

"Sir," the chief said as an affirmation. "I'll keep an eye on our systems, then."

"Very good," the captain replied. "Bridge out."

"Sir!" the helmsman said urgently; the captain turned to her. "The radiation is getting closer, sir, it's--oh god, it's coming right for us!"

"Evasive maneuvers," the captain ordered calmly. "Red alert."

A shrill alarm began to echo.

"Sir, it's keeping up with us," the helmsman reported.

"Evasive pattern theta," the captain replied. "Lietenant Huford, have you completed the scans?"

"Almost, sir," the lietenant replied. "There's some sort of interference that's slowing down our sensors."

"I can't shake it!" the helmsman updated; her voice had taken a shrill undertone. "Captain, it's--"

The captain turned as the helmsman stopped speaking; he saw her slump forward as her eyes rolled up. He stood and stepped quickly to the helm as more of his bridge officers hit the floor.

The captain rapidly entered a blur of commands into the helm, zigging and zagging away from the radiation cloud. When the ship was free and far enough away not to ignite the pocket, the captain engaged warp drive and retreated hastily.

"Computer," the captain said. The computer chimed in response. "Flood all compartments with firetronous gas immediately, at one half part per trillion," he commanded.

"Procedure is not reccomended," the computer chimed. "Firetronous gas is lethal at one point one seven times the specified levels."

"At exact levels specified, firetronous gas is the only known counteragent to mietric radiation exposure; my order stands," the captain stated.

"Affirmative," the system beeped.

A few minutes later, gasps sounded around the bridge. The crew began to cough, and they slowly began to regain their senses.

The captain took a seat at the helm and adjusted the ship's course to the nearest Starbase; medical treatment for his crew was his number one priority.

"Thank you, Captain," the helmsman murmured as she touched his ankle.

"I have done nothing that merits your gratitude, Ensign Nigelaes," the captain replied. "I have endangered this ship and every life aboard. My order nearly destroyed us all."

"Y-you saved us," she said, coughing softly. She moaned and curled onto her side.

"Our sensor scans were completed," Lietenant Huford reported from the science station. Her voice was clear, but her body was shaking as she knelt to read the display.

"Scans are not worth more than the life of even one of my crew," the captain said, but Ensign Nigelaes squeezed his ankle.

"We'd follow you to hell and back...Captain Data," she wheezed. She coughed again before her eyes rolled back in her head; she went limp once more.

Data's brow set as he increased speed to Warp 9.7. The stars flew by, and he heard the sound of Lietenant Huford hitting the floor.

XIII END CHAPTER XIII

**Author's Notes: Eesh. I had planned a more thorough editing of the Data bits before posting, but life happened. Thank you for reading, as always!**


	15. Chapter Fourteen

Aisling stared into her drink.

Quark had told her of his strange encounter the day before, and she was unsettled.

"Does it bother you to share a name with a stranger?" Garak questioned her.

Aisling stared at him over the lip of her glass before she spoke.

"It's not that, exactly," she deflected. Garak raised a brow in an elegant defiance of her redirection.

"Then what?" Garak asked openly. Admittedly, it wasn't his usual style, but he had learned that direct questions yielded the best results when dealing with Aisling.

Aisling sighed and sank even lower on her stool.

"It's complicated," she muttered. She swirled her drink absently, watching how the light caught in the fizzing pink drink.

Garak made a vaguely disapproving sound as he took a sip from his own glass.

"In other news, there is a Starfleet ship docking this afternoon," he mentioned, blatantly changing the subject.

Aisling rolled her eyes.

"It's a station manned by Starfleet; there's always a Starfleet ship docking," she said sardonically.

"Not like this one," he replied with a cryptic smile.

Aisling ignored him and straightened in her chair. She stared out at the bar for a time before she took a long sip of her drink.

"Mmm," she said in appreciation. "This really is a fine vintage of wine."

"Indeed," Garak agreed, content for now to let the matter lie.

"And what of your work?" Aisling inquired suddenly.

"Hm? What of my work?" Garak parried.

Aisling's eyes glinted, and she smiled at him.

"How fares Cardassia?" she asked pointedly.

Garak frowned as he considered his answer.

"Cardassia is as well as could be expected," he replied. "There has been a call to elect an official ruling council."

"That's wonderful news," Aisling commented. Garak met her eyes with a rueful gaze.

"The people want me to lead this council," Garak relayed, and a quiet misery seemed to settle over him. "I am not a politician," he muttered.

"No, you're a gardener," Aisling commented with a gentle smile.

"Yes, and a tailor," Garak agreed heartily.

"So, tailor," Aisling said with a teasing grin. "What have you crafted of late? I keep hearing of your propensity for fabric and fashion, yet I have never seen you so much as thread a needle."

Garak laughed, as she'd intended, and he took a moment to sip his drink slowly before he answered.

"The truth is, I haven't sewn in some time," Garak admitted. "Perhaps I should take advantage of this impromptu vacation and revisit my craft."

Garak glanced at Aisling, considering the possibilities.

"Perhaps I should craft something for you," he mused.

Aisling blinked slowly, and she chose not to speak.

"A frock, perhaps; or a gown," Garak murmured. "Maybe a tunic?"

"You needn't make me anything," Aisling said carefully. "You owe me nothing, and you've done so much for me already."

"Nonsense," Garak insisted, brushing away the notion with a wave of his hand. "It would be a pleasure to create something again, to have a project begun and finished in a timely manner and at my own discretion." He reached for his drink, pausing in his words to linger and savor the taste. "Not hindered and bound by a flock of cowering fools and useless bureaucrats."

Aisling inclined her head.

"As you wish," she said simply. "Yet, I must insist that any garment intended for my use be of natural origin. Not replicated, not synthesized."

"To exist harmoniously with your dual nature as one of the fey," Garak surmised.

Aisling blinked again, and she nodded.

"Yes," she admitted softly.

"I should be able to accomodate that," Garak mused. "There is a shop on the Promenade expecting a shipment of Bolian silk; I do not believe it is all spoken for as of yet."

Aisling stared down into her drink as Garak continued to plan aloud.

"Why?" she asked suddenly, her voice quiet enough that Garak barely heard her. "Why are you doing this--all of this?" She waved a hand around her, using the gesture to encompass all that had happened since they had met.

Garak paused for a moment, pensive.

"Because I owe Julian a debt," he replied softly. "I owe a great many people on this station a debt. Because once, Aisling, I was very much like you." Garak looked up and his eyes burned into hers. "I was once cast out from my home and abandoned by my people. I know, all too keenly, the pain and indifference imposed by living in a strange land among a strange people." Garak's gaze shifted to light on the glass before him. "I learned how valuable even a small act of friendship can be in such a situation."

They sat in silence for a few moments as Garak drained the last of his drink.

"Are we?" Aisling asked at last.

"Hm?" Garak intoned in question.

"Are we friends?" Aisling asked, looking at Garak's face. Her expression was guarded, a mixture of hope and uncertainty and something Garak couldn't quite place.

"I would like to believe we are," he answered. "Or, at the very least, that one day we could be "

Aisling smiled, and her expression changed. Garak sensed something had shifted, something about the nature of their relationship. This small, half-lipped smile on Aisling's face somehow seemed more genuine that most of the expressions he had seen there. He felt himself smiling in return.

"I'd like that," Aisling said softly.

"So would I," Garak murmured into his drink; Aisling didn't reply.

XIV END CHAPTER XIV

Author's Notes: Thank you so so much for reading this far with me! It means so much to know someone besides me gets to read this. You guys are awesome.


	16. Chapter Fifteen

Lieutenant Bridget Huford opened her eyes to an unfamiliar sight. She took stock of her surroundings, noting the ceiling above her; she was laying on her back in some sort of bed or cot. The room was filled with quiet beeps and hushed murmurs. She came to realize that she was in a medical facility of some sort, though not that of her own ship.

"Ah, you're awake," a voice said from off to her right. A face came into view to accompany the words; a young and handsome Starfleet doctor stood next to her.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

Bridget thought for a moment before she answered.

"Strange," she said at last. Her voice was hoarse from disuse; the doctor smiled kindly at her.

"That's not unexpected," he told her. "Your encounter left the majority of your crew mates incapacitated immediately; your captain's swiftness in action very likely saved your lives. Can you sit up?"

Bridget slowly complied, stretching and testing her muscles as she rightened herself. She felt...good. She actually hadn't felt so good in years--though she chose not to share that with the doctor.

"Good," the doctor said. "Your reaction to the firetronous gas was stronger than that of your shipmates. I think we've managed to filter most of the toxin from your system, but I'd like to run a few tests to be sure."

Bridget nodded, used to the litany of tests levelled by Federation doctors. During her time at the Academy, each week had included a routine physical--standard protocol for young cadets, but especially hallowed for applicants to the sciences.

Bridget feigned listening to the doctor as he prattled on; she was used to the explanations and comments on her 'extraordinary' health and her 'remarkable' recoveries. She repressed the urge to roll her eyes as he ran through her vitals--again.

"Where am I?" she asked, interrupting the doctor's monologue.

"Oh, of course," the doctor said. "You're on Deep Space Nine, a space station near the wormhole to the Gamma Quadrant."

Bridget nodded; every Starfleet officer knew about Deep Space Nine, about the war with the Dominion and the pivotal role that DS9 had played in the saga.

"When can I leave?" Bridget asked.

"Well, I don't think you'll be leaving the station anytime soon," he said, and Bridget laughed.

"I meant when may I leave this facility?" she ammended herself. "The Sick Bay, or Infirmary, or whatever you call it."

"Well, I was going to keep you until you'd recovered; I was guessing it would be about a day or two. However, all your scans seem clear," the doctor said with a slight wrinkle in his brow. "In fact, I don't see any reason you couldn't leave as soon as you're up and about."

Bridget nodded, and she swung her feet to the edge of the bed.

"Ah, you really should slow down a bit," the doctor admonished, but Bridget brushed him off with a wave.

"Where is Captain Data?" she asked him.

"Ah, I'm not exactly sure," the doctor admitted. "But you really should take it easy for a day or two. You've been placed on medical leave until you're cleared to return to work."

Bridget turned to stare at the young doctor; he returned her gaze without flinching, to her surprise. He wasn't nearly as green as he appeared to be.

"Very well," Bridget acquiesced. "Since I am on medical leave, I suppose I should try to enjoy myself. Where does one go to relax on a station such as this?"

"Most of the station's businesses are on the Promenade," the doctor said, gesturing to the grand hallway just outside the door. "The bar, Quark's, is a particularly popular location; Vic's lounge is another option, and it happens to be a favorite of mine."

Bridget nodded again as she stood.

"A drink does sound appealing," she mused. "Thank you, doctor. I bid you well."

:Scene Break:

Aisling stared openly at the tall, willowy Starfleet officer striding into the bar.

Garak smiled knowingly as he tapped his fingers on what had quickly become their regular table.

"Who is that?" Aisling asked, and Garak's brow rose.

"Whatever gave you the impression that I would know who she is?" Garak questioned with a placid expression.

Aisling turned to pin him with a withering look; Garak only smiled wider. Aisling pursed her lips, and Garak chuckled.

"She is Lieutenant Bridget Huford," Garak explained. "She studied Earth myths in her time at Starfleet Academy, and she's been very active in archaeological digs on Earth. Or she was, until she was transferred to the Cowabunga a few years ago. Since then, she's been serving as Captain Data's Science Officer."

Aisling turned again to stare at the woman who was now seated at the bar.

The woman ordered a root beer, and Quark delivered her drink with a pained smile and a short bow. Huford dismissed him with a short wave.

Aisling turned back to Garak.

"And you think she can help me?" Aisling asked.

Garak raised one hand in a shrug.

"Who can say for sure?" he mused. "I think it would be a very good start, if you were interested in finding your people."

"I suppose you're right," Aisling said softly. She raised her glass and drained it, and then she set it down quickly. "For now, though, I must be going. I'm supposed to meet with Dax and Captain Data."

"Ah, yes," Garak said, "to create a plan in case of the invasion or assault, or whatever your, 'cloud,' is planning."

Aisling nodded, though her expression was much more serious than his.

"Yes," she said. "And I'd be making less jokes about this if I were you."

"And why is that?" Garak asked. "Is it because I, a member of an unrelated species and no particular friend to Earth, might get caught in the crossfire?"

Aisling nodded as she rose to her feet, and Garak chuckled.

"My dear, one thing you should know about me--I will find a way to survive," Garak told her. He toasted her with his glass and said, "But you had best be off, my dear, to save Bajor and to make history."

Aisling made a face, but she spun on her heel and walked away without saying another word.

XV END CHAPTER XV

Author's Notes: Yay, chapter fifteen!! It finay feels like fall where I live! I'm so excited! Thank you, all of you! Extra, super duper big shout out to anybody that drops a review! You guys are the best!


	17. Chapter Sixteen

Ezri watched as Aisling spoke. The lieutenant found herself unduly fascinated by the way Aisling's lips moved; the faerie's eyes seemed to catch every glint of light, and her skin was radiant.

Ezri shook her head as she realized she had lost track of the conversation.

"I'm sorry, what was that?" Ezri asked.

Aisling laughed.

"My apologies," Aisling said softly. "I should be more careful."

Aisling closed her eyes for a few moments, and it was like a cloud drifted in front of the sun. Aisling was still beautiful, but Ezri's concentration was no longer arrested by that fact.

"What did you do?" Ezri asked, leaning away from the other woman cautiously.

"My people have always been beautiful," Aisling said, "but over time, we developed an ability beyond what man could comprehend. It makes our beauty stronger, brighter, harder to ignore. I have been so long unseeable that perhaps I forgot not to shine so."

Ezri leaned forward again, fascinated.

"Is it some sort of psionic power? A form of telepathy, maybe?" Ezri asked.

Aisling blinked.

"I do not know," Aisling admitted.

Ezri pulled a tricorder from a fold in her uniform and gestured with it.

"May I?" she asked; Aisling nodded.

Ezri opened the tricorder and scanned Aisling and the surrounding areas.

"Interesting," Ezri mumbled under her breath.

Aisling's head tilted to the side and she raised a brow. Ezri continued scanning, unpestered.

"What is so interesting?" Aisling asked at last.

"Oh," Ezri said, startled out of her thoughts. "It appears that there is a form of psionic energy in this room, but it's one I've never seen before. You said all of the fey can do this?"

Aisling paused to consider her words before she replied.

"Not all of us, no," she said. "But most members of the great houses are able to perform some manner of glamour. In my family, it is beauty; in other families it manifests as horror, or familiarity, or even as a mist that obscures the vision."

Ezri nodded, filing and processing the information.

"Maybe there's a way we can use this to our advantage," Ezri mused. "If we can figure out a way to combat or block this psionic frequency, we might be able to use that in the defense of Bajor."

"Very wise," Aisling said. "But how can you be sure that all the fey resonate at the same frequency?"

"I'm not sure," Ezri said earnestly. "But right now, I think this is the best chance we've got. Are you any closer to figuring out which family we're dealing with?"

Aisling shook her head.

"No, I haven't been able to do much research," Aisling said. "Earth has no record of my people, and so much of the information Captain Sisko has provided me is terribly vague."

Ezri made a sour face; Aisling regarded her curiously.

"What troubles you?" Aisling asked.

"Well," Ezri said, "it's just that everyone takes for granted that your people are from Earth, that they migrated away thousands of years ago. But where is the proof? How did they return you to Earth without revealing themselves? It's all just a little difficult to take in."

Aisling tapped her fingers lightly on the table. She sighed and closed her eyes.

"Dax," Aisling said. "How old are you?"

"I'm twenty--" Ezri started to reply, but Aisling cut her off with a wave.

"No, not Ezri. How old is Dax?"

Ezri blinked.

"Well, this is the Dax symbiont's ninth lifetime," Ezri stated.

"And how do you know that Dax is from the Trill homeworld? How did you manage to sneak into the place without the Trills noticing you?"

"I'm from the Trill homeworld," Ezri said. "That's a bit of a ridiculous question."

Aisling's eyes glinted, and she didn't say a word.

"Oh," Ezri said softly. "Oh, wow. How...how old are you?"

Now, Aisling's lips twitched in an echo of a smile. She stood and ruffled Ezri's hair fondly.

"Older than you, Dax," Aisling murmured. "I think we're done here for today."

"But what about--"

"Analyze your readings," Aisling interupted, rising to her feet. "Make your theories, discuss them with your Federation friends. Postulate, preen, gossip; do whatever you need to do, just get it out of your system."

Ezri sat, stunned, as Aisling walked the few steps to the exit. Aisling turned in the open doorway and pinned Dax with a look of barely veiled contempt.

"And when you come to a conclusion," Aisling said, "be sure you let me know something. Until then, you may call upon me at any time."

Aisling swept into a bow, and she walked away.

*Scene Break*

"I'm telling you, Julian, there's something strange about her," Ezri said. "She's dangerous."

Julian and Ezri were in their quarters, once again attempting to enjoy a romantic dinner alone. A single candle burned low in a pool of wax, and their plates sat cooling and untouched as the couple engaged in a heated discussion.

"Don't be ridiculous!" Julian countered. "I've known her since I was a child, and she wouldn't harm a fly."

"She might not hurt a fly, but you should have seen the look on her face," Ezri returned, her tone searing. "There was something savage in her eyes."

"Probably because she's tired of defending who she is," Julian retorted swiftly. "Something I feel that I can relate to."

"And about that," Ezri said pointedly, stabbing a finger into the table for emphasis. "How do you know she's even telling the truth about her origins?"

"I don't, exactly," Julian admitted grudgingly. He brushed the thought away with a wave and said, "But I do trust her."

"You trust her??" Ezri exclaimed. She ran her hands through her hair in a split second of incredulity. "You don't even know who she is!"

"She's been watching over me since I was a child," Julian returned hotly, voice dropping lower on a wave of anger. "I think if she'd meant any harm, she would have done it by now."

"Julian," Ezri said, "You're acting like you're a child now!"

"Oh, you say that I'm the one acting like a child?" Julian asked. "What about you?"

"Me?" Ezri asked incredulously.

"Yes, you," Julian replied. "You're the one suddenly questioning our only hope of protecting Bajor--the one who Captain Sisko himself met in the wormhole."

"Yeah, I feel so safe knowing the Prophets chose her," Ezri quipped dryly; Julian blinked, suddenly caught in a snapshot memory of Jadzia snarking in that exact same way. Julian refocused.

"Ezri, that's no way to speak about the Captain's people," Julian replied, but Ezri rolled her eyes.

"The Captain's people are on Earth," Ezri said, poking her finger into the table again. "He went to live with the Prophets because, I don't know, they have a mission for him, or something. Benjamin is from New Orleans, and I've known his family longer than I've known you."

"Oh, don't go bringing up past lives. I know he calls you Old Man, no need to rub that one in," Julian said, gaining a somewhat sarcastic and long suffering lilt to the cadence of his voice.

"For your information," Ezri said shortly, her eyes burning, "I, Ezri, met Mr. Sisko shortly after being joined. BEFORE I came to the station and met you--again. As Ezri, I mean. So, no, I'm not bringing past lives into this. Aaagh, this doesn't make any sense!"

Ezri shoved away from the table and surged to her feet, throwing her hands out in frustrstion.

"I just hope you know what you're talking about," Ezri said in a carefully placid voice.

"So do I," he replied, running a hand over his face. The burst of temper had drained from him as quickly as it came.

"Oh, what are we going to do?" Ezri asked softly.

"I don't know," Julian replied. He stepped closer to her and put his hand on her face; she leaned into his touch. "But we will figure this out. I promise."

"Julian," Ezri said. Her voice made his name a statement, a question, and a demand.

Julian leaned his forehead to touch hers gently.

"What is it, Ezri?" he asked softly.

"What if she's telling the truth?" Ezri asked. "What will that mean for the Federation? Can Starfleet even survive something like this?"

Julian sighed.

"Everyone knows that Earth has a violent past," he told her softly. "We just have to try and make amends for our mistakes."

Ezri rose slightly to press her lips to Julian's, and they kissed gently. When she drew back, he was staring into her eyes.

"I don't want to lose you," Ezri whispered.

"And you won't," Julian promised. "No matter what happens, I will stay by your side. Even if the Federation falls, we'll still have each other."

Julian wrapped his arms around Ezri, and she sank into his embrace.

XVI END CHAPTER XVI

**Author's Notes: I don't actually like the first scene in this chapter. It sets up other things, sets the tone for the relationship between Ezri and Aisling, it sets a scifi lens on a notorious fantasy concept, and it's overall actually pretty necessary. But. I don't really like the interplay between Ezri and Aisling here. It stands as it is, but I tend to gloss over this chapter a bit when I reread to regain my bearings.**


	18. Chapter Seventeen

PLEASE READ: This chapter contains material some readers might find distateful or disturbing, more so than previous chapters. Warnings specific to this chapter include: kidnapping, a character being held against their will, physical violence, and some foul language. Please, continue at your own discretion.

Chapter Seventeen:

Aisling turned in her sleep; even while in her corporeal form, the energies surging through the station made her restless. She moaned, caught in some formless terror of a dream.

Some noise must have startled her, because she awoke suddenly and sat straight up in her bed. Someone was looming over her, and she almost managed to make a noise before the hypospray hissed behind her ear.

*Scene Break*

Garak had walked the length of the Promenade several times, searching to no avail. Julian had cornered him earlier, as Aisling had failed to show up to her meeting with Captain Data. Now, there was no trace of her to be found.

The station's computers showed no sign of her, but Garak wasn't convinced the readings were entirely accurate. After all, he'd had no luck in detecting her before their trip to Deep Space Nine. It was possible she had chosen to become incorporeal once more.

Garak made an aggrevated sound as he passed Quark's again; the sight of the table he'd shared with Aisling annoyed him more and more every time it caught his eye.

"This isn't funny," Garak muttered under his breath, half convinced that Aisling would answer him. "You were supposed to meet the Captain over an hour ago. Where did you get off to?"

"Any luck?"

Garak turned at the voice of Doctor Julian Bashir.

"I'm afraid not," Garak replied. His face was set in a careful arrangement of nothingness--Julian wasn't fooled.

"Is there any chance she took a transport?" the doctor asked. "Did she mention anything, perhaps a trip to Bajor?"

Garak had scoured his memory many times over already; Aisling had mentioned nothing about leaving. She'd left no clue to her whereabouts.

"No," Garak answered. "Did the search of her quarters turn up anything?"

"I'm not sure," Julian replied. "They weren't finished the last time I checked."

The two men locked eyes and wordlessly turned to walk to the nearest turbolift.

"Habitat ring," Julian commanded.

The two rode in silence for a few minutes, each taken with their own thoughts, until Julian spoke.

"Where do you think she went?" he asked quietly.

"My dear doctor," Garak said testily, "if I knew the answer to that, I wouldn't be searching the station still."

Julian sighed.

"You're right, of course."

*Scene Break*

Aisling opened her eyes--and she screwed them shut almost immediately. A bright light shined directly down onto her, harshing her vision. She groaned in protest and moved her arm in an effort to cover her eyes. She discovered in doing so that her hands were bound behind her back.

"What?" she mumbled. Aisling shook her head, eyes still held closed.

"Ah, you're awake," a cold voice greeted her.

Aisling heard the sound of a chair scraping a concrete floor.

"What do you want from me?" Aisling asked aloud--she still did not open her eyes, though now the inaction held a hint defiance.

"What's your name?" the voice asked gruffly.

"I am known as Aisling."

"Alright, Aisling. My name is Tovias Ruffledge. I'm going to be your...your host for a few days."

Aisling did not reply, and she held herself in a carefully loose stillness.

"I'm going to ask you a few questions," Tovias continued, undaunted.

Aisling breathed in and out steadily, focusing her attention on calming her heartbeat and listening intently to her surroundings.

"Is that alright?" Tovias asked.

In another circumstance, Aisling would have laughed at the irony. As it was, she nodded once.

Tovias did laugh, a barking sound.

"So, you think you're a tough one?" Tovias mused. "We'll see. Who are you?"

"I am known as Aisling," she repeated. Aisling felt a hand grabbing her hair and dragging her head backwards. She made a small noise, and this seemed to please Tovias because they let her go.

"I didn't ask your name," Tovias said. "I asked, 'Who are you?' What species are you, what is your mission, to what end do you serve?"

"I am Aisling."

A sharp cracking sound accompanied the sting that sang through Aisling's cheek.

"Don't play games with me," Tovias warned. "Look at me."

Aisling kept her eyes closed and focused on breathing.

"Look at me!" Tovias shouted.

Aisling's head yanked backwards as Tovias grabbed a fistful of hair.

"You really do think you're some kind of tough guy, huh?"

Aisling opened her eyes and looked at her interrogator. Sharp blue eyes stared at her from a few inches away; a halo of brightness from behind obscured the rest of their features.

"Yes," Aisling replied simply.

Tovias released her and scoffed.

"Yes, what?" Tovias asked mockingly.

"Yes, I really do think I am some kind of, 'tough guy,'" Aisling replied.

Tovias didn't like that.

This time, Aisling had a split second warning as she watched the hand sail toward her other cheek. The sting brought a catch to her throat; Aisling spit in Tovias's face.

Pain burst like flowers blooming as Tovias rained their fists down on Aisling. Tovias hit her face, her body, her arms; anything they could reach.

When the assuage was over, Aisling gritted her teeth. She felt her eyes swelling; she felt the skin of her cheek, burst like an overripe fruit, as it began to trickle blood. Aisling spat again, this time onto the floor. A small, red splatter appeared by her feet.

Aisling looked up at Tovias again, defiance in every angle of her body.

"I am Aisling," she said once more.

Tovias made a disgusted sound, and they rose to their feet.

"You make me sick," Tovias said as they walked out of Aisling's field of vision.

She heard a scraping sound and then a echoing thud. Aisling shuddered, and she relaxed against her bonds.

"What the actual fuck," she murmured to herself.

**XVII END CHAPTER XVII**

Author's Notes: My goodness, finally some action in this sea of character driven vignettes. Also, we meet Tovias, who is indeed a nonbinary character. If this is something perplexing or insulting to you, please kindly locate the back arrow with a swiftness. If you are concerned that the only nonbinary character is a villain, please don't fret. Tovias ends up being pretty complicated, this just isn't a good viewpoint for us to see them in. It'll get better. I love you guys!

I do have a standing request: constructive criticism. If there's something specific you find off-putting about a scene, feel free let me know. If a character doesn't seem quite right, jot me a note. I'm not asking for flames, but a little constructive criticism goes a long way.

Speaking. Of. Which. Thank you so much for the DEPTH in nearly all the reviews I've gotten. I adore reading little tidbits of speculation, and reactions to chapter specifics. I want so badly to answer some of the questions raised in these reviews, buuuuut. Time must march on, and all questions should get answered eventually by the fic itself. Sincerely, thank you.

Special note for November: I am currently attempting NaNoWriMo, so updates may be a bit sporadic. I do have a few extra chapters padded up, so I should have at least one more update this month.


	19. Chapter Eighteen

**Warnings: Downgraded from last chapter's severity, but there is a character being held against their will in this chapter.**

Bashir and Garak entered Aisling's quarters in unison.

"Anything?" Julian asked the crewman closest to him.

"Julian, there you are," Miles O'Brien said as he walked around the corner carrying a padd.

"Miles," Julian replied with a nod. "What have you found?"

"Nothing good," O'Brien said darkly. "We've found traces of a long-distance transporter beam. There's no record of any similar equipment being on the station, so we have to assume she was transported away by an outside force."

Julian's face closed.

"Section 31," Bashir said bitterly.

"That's what I thought, as well," O'Brien replied.

"Do you know where she's been taken?" Garak asked as he stepped closer.

"No, but we're working on it," Miles said. "I've been working on a new buffer enhancer tracking system, and I think I've got enough of a trace to run through it."

"It must have been a very strong beam, indeed, if there's enough left to track," Garak commented with carefully widened eyes.

"Ah, not exactly," Miles admitted. "The initial scans showed only a residual amount of radiation. Between that and the records from the internal sensors, I'm hoping to extrapolate enough data to get started."

Garak's brows winged up and he inclined his head.

"That's quite an impressive feat," Garak said. "I wasn't aware the Federation possessed such capibilities."

"We don't, exactly," O'Brien said. "The enhancer is just something I've been working on in my spare time."

Garak nodded in understanding, and O'Brien shot him a look.

"And if it were anyone else but you, I wouldn't have even mentioned it," O'Brien stated bluntly.

"Why, Chief, I'm touched," Garak replied with a regal nod.

"Yeah, well, don't let it go to your head," O'Brien muttered.

"When can you expect results?" Julian asked, cutting through their chatter.

"We should be finishing up here in a few minutes," O'Brien said. "After that, I've got to go down to the Science Lab and run a few tests. Then, with any luck, I should be ready to give the enhancer a whirl."

"And then?" Garak prompted.

"And then," Miles said, "I'll get to see if my little project is worth pitching to Starfleet Engineering."

*Scene Break*

Aisling shook her head. After all this time, she was finally corporeal again, and her people were still at war with the humans. Perhaps war wasn't the best term, as most humans didn't even know there had been a previous species on Earth. Aisling didn't see the need to make too much of a distinction, given her current position.

She'd been bound, beaten, and left to sit in an empty interrogation chamber for hours on end. The only person she'd seen since she'd regained consciousness was Tovias, and they had yet to reappear since that first conversation.

Aisling had stared into the edges of her prison to no avail; the stone floors stretched to the edges of the puddle of light, and the rest of the room was cast deeply into shadow.

Suddenly, the door at the far edge of the room scraped open.

Aisling felt her face settle into unyielding lines.

"Hello, Aisling," Tovias greeted her from the door. Their voice was rough and mocking.

"Hello, Tovias," Aisling replied evenly. Her face tilted upward slightly, letting the light catch her eyes; in just a few short hours, the swelling had lessened greatly and the bleeding had stopped. There was something to be said for the faerie metabolism. Her stomach growled; several somethings could be said, actually, and not all of them were good.

"Oh, are you hungry?" Tovias asked. They put their hand on their chest in a mockery of concern.

"I wouldn't eat anything you offered if you begged me," Aisling returned darkly.

"We'll see about that," Tovias said as they pulled up the other chair. They sat, heavily, and Aisling finally saw her interrogator in full light. A line of scars ran from the hairline to the jaw on the square, heavyset face before her. Muscles rippled along the shoulders, and their wide chest was covered by heavy ablative armor.

"Tell me something," Tovias said in a conversational tone. "What do you hope to gain from smearing the Federation?"

Aisling stared without answering.

"You came up with this elaborate story about fairies and an ancient war; what did you think it would gain you? Are you working for the Romulans? Or the Cardassians? We'd heard the Obsidian Order was completely destroyed in the failed assault on the Founders, but we've been wrong before."

Aisling did not answer. Instead, she tilted her head slowly and asked a question of her own.

"Does it trouble you so deeply, that your beloved Federation has such a dark secret lost to the passage of time?"

A familiar sting ran through her cheek as Tovias struck her, and the newly healed wound burned. Aisling bit back the scathing remarks that jumped to her mind.

"Such insolence," Tovias muttered. "I ask you again, what do you hope to gain?"

Aisling shook her head.

"You're mistaken," she said. Tovias tilted their head, listening aptly. "I don't hope to gain anything, and I've never claimed to be anything other than what I am. I am Aisling."

Tovias growled in frustration, and they glared at Aisling.

"You are beginning to annoy me," Tovias said.

Aisling simply glowered back at her captor.

"You really expect me to believe that you come from Earth, that your people abandoned this place rather than simply wipe out the human race?" Tovias asked.

"We are not the monsters you painted us to be," Aisling said. "We believe in the sanctity of life, and we always have. Humans would have caused our extinction, so we evacuated our home. Make no mistake, though; we have not forgotten, nor have we forgiven you."

Tovias slapped their own knee with an echoing sound like a gunshot.

"Don't toy with me," Tovias ground out between clenched teeth. "You are some manner of spy, sent by an enemy of the Federation to weaken us."

Aisling regarded Tovias with something resembling pity.

"Don't flatter yourself, Tovias," she said, distinctly pronouncing every syllable of their name. "Your little Federation is not even worth the consideration of my people."

It was Tovias's turn to spit on the ground in disgust, and they shoved to their feet and stormed out of the room.

Aisling sighed, and her stomach growled again.

**XVIII END CHAPTER XVIII**

Author's Notes: Yiiiiiiiii, 'nother November updaaaate! Shoutout to anyone who has read this far, you guys are the beeeeest!!


	20. Chapter Nineteen

O'Brien tapped at the keypad in front of him, concentrating on the information on the display. The sensors were being tricky, but he'd almost managed to configure his enhancer to trace the signal. He was working from his quarters, and at his insistance Julian and Garak were both elsewhere. Where, exactly, he wasn't sure; as long as they weren't in his space, breathing down his neck.

"She's been kidnapped, you know," a voice said from beside him.

O'Brien jumped with an oath, and he spun to face the sudden noise.

"Your Aisling, I mean." The person speaking was a short woman with yellow eyes and black furred ears poking from her tousled hair.

"How did you get in here?" O'Brien demanded.

The woman shrugged, staring at him intently.

"O'Brien to Security," Miles said brusquely, tapping his combadge. "Intruder alert in my quarters."

The woman laughed, and the sound was so joyous that O'Brien found himself grinning as well. When she stopped laughing, O'Brien's face fell, and he backed away warily.

"Who are you?" he demanded.

The woman smiled and shook her head.

"Your Aisling's been kidnapped," she stated. "I am...a friend."

At that moment, station security swept into the room. Each of the deputies split off, phasers in hand. None of them even glanced at the strange woman leaning against the wall.

"Chief," the first deputy reported aftet they completed a sweep of the connected rooms. "You said there was an intruder?"

"Yeah, she's right there," Miles said, gesturing at the woman.

"Sir?" the deputy asked. "Did she go into one of the other rooms?"

Miles stared as the security team walked right past the intruder; the stranger winked at him as they did so.

"They can't see me, you know," she stated.

"Computer, scan this room and report any anomalies," O'Brien ordered. The security team turned to O'Brien, concerned and wary.

"Scan complete," the computer chimed. "There are no anomalies to report. Life signs include two humans and three Bajorans."

O'Brien scowled at his unbidden visitor.

"What are you?" he demanded.

The deputy in charge of the security team regarded O'Brien with worry.

"Chief?" he asked.

O'Brien shook his head.

"You're dismissed," he muttered. "Must have been working too hard."

The deputy nodded, and the security team left.

"What do you want?" O'Brien asked in a low voice once the door closed behind the last deputy.

The woman shrugged, a casual lift of a hand.

"I don't want to see her be hurt," she said simply.

O'Brien scoffed.

"No, this is just too weird," he said. "Julian told me what Garak said about Aisling, about how his computers couldn't detect her while she was 'incorporeal.' It's just too much of a coincidence that the station's computers can't detect you. The way I see it, either you are Aisling and you're just sending us on a wild goose chase, or you know her somehow. So why don't you tell me what's actually going on?"

The woman shrugged again, but she was no longer merry.

"I am Aisling," she stated, "but I am not your Aisling. You may call me Moira."

O'Brien nodded and gestured impatiently for her to continue.

"Your Aisling was once...a friend of mine," she said. "One I haven't seen in a very long time; indeed, I thought I would never see her again.

"When I came to this station, it was merely a chance to ply my trade. Since I left my home world, I've made a living as a designer of high fashion shoes."

"You're kidding," Miles interrupted.

Moira scowled at his audacity.

"You're a cobbler?" he asked. "A faerie cobbler?"

"Not just a cobbler," Moira corrected haughtily. "I am one of the most exclusive and highly sought after brands of designer foot wear in the quadrant. I had hoped to establish a market in the Gamma Quadrant, which is what brought me to this station initially."

After this, Moira's face fell.

"I just didn't expect to find her here," she said softly.

"So, let me get this straight," Miles said. "You're a faerie, from Earth. You used to be friends with Aisling--our Aisling--before you left. Now, you make designer shoes and you just so happened to be on the station at the same time as she was kidnapped?"

Moira nodded.

"I think you're having me on," Miles said. "I think this is some sort of set-up. Aisling probably put you up to this. The stories always said how treacherous--"

"Those stories were written centuries after we left Earth by the descendants of the tribes we had declined to conquer!" Moira exclaimed heatedly. "Now, I don't care whether you believe me or not, I need your help to save--to save her!"

Miles stared, taken aback by Moira's outburst.

"What do you need me for?" he asked quietly.

Moira glared at him, and Miles swore he could see tears glittering in her eyes.

"For now," she said, "finish running your tracking scan. I'm pretty sure I know where they've taken her, but I need confirmation. After that, I need to speak with her keeper and her rescuer."

"Keeper?" Miles asked. "Rescuer?"

Moira sighed, and with the strained patience of explaining a basic concept to a child, she said, "Her keeper is the latest person to inherit her anchor. If I'm not mistaken, she was bound to a book of records and entrusted to a human family. Her rescuer is whoever it was that discovered her secret and returned her to her corporeal state."

"Oh," Miles said. "Actually, I'm afraid it's a bit more complicated than that..."

**XIX END CHAPTER XIX**

Author's Notes: Haha, more words! I have several more chapters pending update, so I'm dumping a slush of chapters this month.


	21. Chapter Twenty

Captain Sisko rubbed his eyes for the umpteenth time that afternoon as he returned to his seat with a steaming raktajino.

Moira, Dax, Kira, Bashir, Garak, O'Brien, and Data sat with him at the Wardroom table; conversations had sparked among those gathered during the short break Sisko had called. Dax and Data were discussing the logicstics of updating technology, Kira was questioning Garak about his first encounter with Aisling, and O'Brien was telling Bashir and Moira about the research and development of his buffer enhancer.

The debriefing had been meant to include Aisling, but instead they were discussing her unforseen disappearance. Sisko still wasn't sure he completely followed what was going on, but he had made a good show so far by listening aptly to the flow of the conversation.

"Let me get this straight," Sisko said, cutting across the chatter. "Aisling has disappeared, but we think she's been kidnapped."

Moira and O'Brien met each others' eyes, and then they nodded.

"Why?" Sisko asked. "What's our evidence, what's the motive? What real reason do we have to believe that she didn't simply transport away of her own volition? By her words--and yours, Miss Moira--the faeries' technological capabilities far surpass our own. What makes you think that she didn't simply rejoin her own people?"

"Well, sir, we believe she was kidnapped because she gave no indication that she was planning to leave," Miles said. "My study showed that the transporter was activated at around 0030 hours, which is an odd time to leave voluntarily. With nothing specific keeping her here, there's no reason she couldn't have boarded any vessel as a passenger and simply left."

"But she didn't give us any promise that she would stay, either," Sisko returned.

"Sir, if I may," Moira said. Sisko turned to regard her for a few moments before he nodded the go ahead. "Is it true that she gave you her word that she would protect Bajor?"

"Ah, she didn't promise me anything directly. She was speaking to the Prophets when she said that," Sisko replied.

"But she did give her word?" Moira asked. Sisko nodded. "Then she wouldn't leave until she had fulfilled it."

"Maybe she found a way to keep her word that involved leaving the station?" Kira posited.

"I don't think so," Julian said. "There's nothing to indicate that she did find a lead elsewhere, and this is where all of the action is. Captain Sisko is here, she was returned to her corporeal state en route here, she made contact with the Prophets in the station's Bajoran shrine. I don't see any reason to believe she did leave willingly."

"I agree with Julian," Dax said.

Julian turned to look at her, a bit stunned by her statement.

"I know I haven't been her biggest fan, exactly," Dax continued, "but from our last conversation, she very much sounded like she was invested in our situation here. She even told me that I could reach her any time. That just doesn't sound like someone planning a trip far away."

Sisko paused to process all this, his chin leaning onto his fist.

"Captain Data, I'd like to hear what you think," Sisko said, letting his hand fall back to the table.

Data took a moment before he replied.

"It appears that Aisling has been kidnapped," Data said. "As has been stated, there is very little evidence to suggest otherwise. Frankly, I fail to see the relevance of whether she left voluntarily or not, as our plan of action should remain the same. Either we continue the attempt to safeguard Bajor against any possible threats posed by this cloud, or we attempt to locate Aisling and proceed from there."

Sisko steepled his hands in thought.

"Suggestions?" he asked of the room.

"Sir, I believe I have some information that may interest you," O'Brien said. Sisko nodded for him to continue. "When I ran the trace of the transporter signal, it showed that the transporter was one of several long range beams piggybacked to span an extreme distance. I did a little digging, and...Aisling has been taken to Earth."

The officers gathered stared at O'Brien in shock.

"Earth," Sisko said slowly. "Are you sure?"

"I'm afraid so," O'Brien replied. "I've repeated all the tests after recalibrating the equipment, and I checked several long range sensor arrays. Everything checks out; whether she went intentionally or not, Aisling is on Earth now, somewhere relatively near New Orleans in a place called Colfax."

"Colfax," Sisko repeated with a dark expression.

"You've heard of it?" Kira asked.

"You could say that," Sisko said. "There was a massecre that happened in Colfax, and for centuries after it remained a place where hatred and bigotry ran rampant."

"Sounds like the kind of place you'd expect someone to be taken after they're kidnapped," Dax commented darkly.

"Does Starfleet Command know what has happened?" Data asked.

Sisko shook his head.

"I haven't sent my report yet," Sisko replied. "I was hoping to have some answers before I got in touch. I suppose I'll have to put a rush on it, now."

"Who's to say that Starfleet Command doesn't know what's going on already?" O'Brien said darkly. "Julian, you said you had filed your report when Aisling first got here?"

Julian nodded.

"Then maybe Starfleet Intelligence ordered her to be apprehended," O'Brien posited. At the shocked looks from his fellow officers he continued, "Well, if I was a general, I know I'd be worried if a story like this cropped up. I'd probably think it was a Romulan ploy to weaken the Federation."

"Nevertheless," Data said, "it is intolerable that the Federation has been represented in such a manner. Even if Aisling's claim were to be untrue, Starfleet Command should put forth every effort to research and either prove or disprove the allegation before allowing any action to be taken. If Mr. Garak does prove to be correct, and Aisling is a member of a pre-human society, efforts should be made to make diplomatic relations. Any attempt to hide the fact that this happened would be a grave mistake."

Data stood and regarded those gathered at the table with him.

"We cannot allow the Federation to represent itself in this manner; Captain, may I assume that you will be contacting Starfleet Command?"

Sisko nodded.

"That is good," Data said. "I will also contact my superiors; perhaps we will find out for sure who is behind this attack."

"Attack?" Kira repeated.

"Yes," Data replied. "This event is an assault upon Aisling's person, upon the rights of Bajor, and upon the very tenets that the Federation has sworn to uphold."

"Well said," Garak inserted. "But what hope do you have of rectifying this, 'attack?'"

Data turned to look directly at Garak

"I will contact Captain Picard."

XX END CHAPTER XX

Author's Notes: And another! Since I'm being eaten by Nano this year, I'm posting several chapters without really writing to get y'all closer to where I am. I've got up to chapter 37 written (in varying stages of editing) and I plan to get back to it in December.

Thank you all for taking this journey with me! I appreciate the support and feedback so so much.

Super. Special. Shout. Out.

To that one person who has consistantly been leaving reviews. Not on every single chapter, but it's really quite close. You have made this fic go so much farther than it would have if you'd never made that account.

Thank you, so much, and I hope you continue to enjoy this fic.

bows*


	22. Chapter Twenty-One

(Dream sequence: Benjamin Sisko, Captain)

Bridget sat alone at a small table in the shadows. Long legs seemed to be the theme of the table; the lady, the drinking glass, the wine, and the furniture all sported long and slender legs.

Benjamin Sisko swinged into the scene, snapping his fingers and humming. He jived his way up to her table, and he laid his hands down on the bartop with a grin.

"Hey, baby," he crooned. "I've got a proposal for you."

Bridget looked up from her drink and blinked; her eyelashes flashed like dark wings in the night. She recrossed her legs; mile upon mile of Starfleet uniform black slid back and forth in a kaleidoscope of fabric and muscle.

"What is it you need?" she said, and her voice bloomed in magnolia and silk.

Sisko smiled, a small sun dawning on her from a few feet away.

"I need you to defeat a cloud."

"A cloud, sir?"

"Yes, a cloud," Sisko returned.

"I think you need to ask her, not me," Bridget replied slowly, and she returned her attention to her drink. Sisko watched as she drained half of the glass with a silver straw.

"Ask who?" Sisko replied.

Bridget giggled and pointed at her glass. Sisko glanced, and it was full again.

"How did that--?" Sisko trailed off mid-thought.

"Wake up," Bridget chimed merrily.

Sisko opened his eyes. He blinked at the ceiling, confused for a fleeting moment.

A dream? He rubbed his eyes and sat up.

"Computer, what time is it?" he asked.

"It is Oh-Four-Twenty hours," the computer chimed.

Sisko sighed and cupped his hands to his face for a few moments.

"Alright, I'm up," he spoke to the air.

Lieutenant Huford walked briskly through Ops. The summons to Captain Sisko's office had come as a surprise, but Bridget wasn't particularly bothered. She nodded at the crew members who looked up as she passed.

Bridget pressed the door chime and let her hand fall to her side.

"Enter," came Sisko's voice from within.

Lieutenant Huford stepped into Sisko's office. The captain glanced up and smiled, and he gestured for her to sit. She did so.

"Lieutenant Huford reporting as ordered, sir," she stated.

"Yes, thank you," Captain Sisko said habitually. "So, I've been told that you are an expert in ancient Earth mythology?"

Lieutenant Huford hesitated before she nodded.

"I wouldn't say I'm an expert, sir, but I have done extensive work in the archaeological field with a focus on Terra Firma," she replied.

"I didn't order you here to quibble about words," Sisko said lightly. "I need your help."

Lieutenant Huford raised an eyebrow.

"And what can I do for you, sir?" she asked.

"I need an expert, or a seasoned professional, to help me with a confidential mission. Before I give you the details, I need you to understand that this mission is of the utmost priority and discretion. There will be no mention of it in any reports except those that you will give directly to me. Have I made myself clear?"

Huford nodded, intrigued.

"Very well," Sisko said. "The mission is--"

XXI END CHAPTER XXI

Author's Notes: Oop. Big ole clifhanger there. Thank you all, so much, for reading this far!

I'll be spending some time polishing the future chapters, so any quality dip you might have noticed during the last few chapters should spriff back up. I'm a better editor than I am a writer, in my opinion.

Speaking of NaNo, I did it! I made it to 50k! My story still isn't finished, but I'm pretty close to done with the first draft.


	23. Chapter Twenty-two

"--a highly sensitive research misson. I am looking into the possibility that there was intelligent life on Earth before the evolution of humans," Sisko said.

Huford blinked slowly.

"Sir?" she asked.

"Yes, yes, I know the idea takes some getting used to," Sisko admitted. "However, for the sake of this mission I have decided it is in the best interest of all involved to act on the assumption that this is true."

Huford nodded slowly.

"I see," she said. "And you think my...interest in archaeology is going to assist you?"

"I'm counting on it," Sisko replied. "The civilization we're looking for is central to Earth myths, identified in many different cultures. Most commonly, they're known as--"

"--the fae," Huford finished for him. Sisko nodded.

"You see where I'm going with this?" he asked.

"I think I do," Huford affirmed.

"Good," Siko nodded. "You'll be working directly with Captain Data, giving him as much information as possible on how to deal with the fae. He'll be in touch with our operatives on Earth."

Huford nodded, and she said, "Yes, sir."

*Scene Break.*

Aisling blinked her eyes open and squinted. At some point she must have fallen asleep, because she was sagging as far as her bonds would allow her. Her eyes itched from sleeping, and Aisling shook her head in an attempt to clear it.

Aisling looked at the room around her, sullenly glaring into the shadows. She strained her eyes, trying again to perceive what lurked in the shadowed corners--to no avail. She sighed in aggrevation and muttered an oath.

Something was wrong. The humans should have hurt her, or interrogated her more thoroughly--or even offered her some sort of deal. Aisling couldn't put her finger on it, but she felt like she was getting close until her stomach growled. Aisling felt her thoughts tumble out of place as hunger twisted her belly.

A harsh creak echoed through the chamber as the door swung open.

Aisling set her face to a soft scowl, and a figure walked into the slice of blinding light.

"Release her," came an order. Aisling didn't recognize the soft-spoken voice; it was distinctly British in tone and carried the weight of assuredness that command brings.

Aisling watched two more figures, highlighted from behind by the light from outside, as they walked toward her.

A man and a woman in Starfleet security gold walked into her puddle of light, and the man stepped to her side and released the bonds that strapped her to the chair.

The man in the doorway stepped forward, and Aisling stared at her apparent savior catiously. The crisp red of Starfleet command suited him, and his eyes conveyed kindness and intelligence.

"Hello," he said to Aisling. His tone was soft and midly convivial, and his voice seemed to stretch to the corners of the room.

"Hello," Aisling replied quietly. Her tone was cordial, polite, and midly disinterested--as though they were passing on any given street on a Sunday.

The man walked slowly, unassumingly toward her, gesturing his security dispatch to give Aisling distance--the pair backed up a few steps and stood at rest.

"My name is Captain Picard," the man told her. Aisling blinked slowly, measuredly; she did not reply.

"I understand that you have not been a willing guest of our planet--your planet," Picard said. "I intend to rectify the mistakes that have been made, in every capacity that I am able. How may I address you?"

Aisling drew her arms in to her torso, slowly, testingly--the first time she had even acknowledged her new freedoms. She rubbed both wrists, and then both her shoulders. Picard held a hand to stop one of the security team from speaking as Aisling continued to take a small physical inventory, rubbing aches and pains away and stretching sore muscles.

Finally, she finished, and Aisling looked directly into Picard's face.

"I like you," she declared. Picard couldn't stop the surprise that washed over his face, but he did stymie it as best he could back to a polite interest.

"I see," he replied. "I am glad to know this," he said carefully.

Deanna Troi, as always, had been instrumental during Picard's briefing. Troi had distilled information sent by Captain Data--who was working with Starfleet's emminent ancient sociologist, Lietenant Huford--into a manifest of do's and don'ts for Captain Picard.

Among them, she had stressed most highly that gratitude and the expression of it were highly insulting to members of certain faerie communities--and there was no way of knowing whether or not the rumored faerie guest would become offended by even a simple admission of gratitude.

Picard smiled graciously in lieu of other platitudes.

Aisling returned his smile, and she stood. Picard again waved back the security team, whose hands had drifted near to their holstered phasers.

"Do you know why I like you, Captain Picard?" Aisling asked.

Picard shook his head.

"No, I do not," he replied. "May I know?"

Aisling chuckled.

"For one, you came prepared. The way you speak, it's too careful," Aisling said. Picard drew a breath to explain, to pontificate, to defend--but Aisling continued, "And you smell like the vines. And like the hills. And like the earth."

This observation sent Picard back into silence.

Aisling stretched more completely now, a series of movements that reached in every direction and systemically targeted most muscles in her body.

"You may call me Siobhan, because you delight me so well. I am Aisling," she finally informed him.

Picard bowed deeply but kept contact with her eyes--an ancient Earth pratice and a stab in the dark as far as diplomacy went.

"You say that I may call you Siobhan--may I understand this to be a name? Or is this a title?" Picard queried.

Aisling smiled broadly and answered with a question of her own.

"Captain Picard--are you here to show me to nicer accomadations?"

"Yes," Picard answered. "I have been sent by Starfleet Command to stop the illegal operations of an unknown organization. My top priority in this mission is your safety and well-being, and to attempt to begin a diplomatic relation with your peoples."

"That sounds grand," Aisling said. "So, you don't happen to have a sandwich, do you?"

XXII END CHAPTER XXII


	24. Chapter Twenty-Three

Julian sat in his office, staring blankly at the computer display. Numbers and symbols flashed as the computer calculated the latest information he'd fed it; Julian's thoughts were miles away.

Two weeks from now, he and Ezri would be married. They'd agreed that no matter what, they would hold to that date. If necessary, they would ask Captain Data to perform the ceremomy, or Captain Sisko, even if it had to be under duress.

Julian wondered idly if the station was actually going to be under attack again. The thought of an enemy that he couldn't see made him uneasy.

Now, with Aisling's disappearance and the arrival of Moira, things had gotten even weirder.

Ezri's research into the psionic abilities of the faerie was a bit of a non-starter; there simply wasn't enough reference data to work with. She'd tried bouncing a few ideas off of Julian last night, but nothing new had shaken loose.

The computer beeped the completion of its task, and Julian shook the fog from his head. He refocused his attention on the display and tapped a few commands into the control panel.

The display spiralled into a visual display of the virus Julian was researching; Julian's brow creased, and he leaned forward. Something about the display was wrong, something had changed. Julian stood as he realized what had happened.

"Computer, begin medical officer's log," Julian commanded. He gave the stardate and began his observations, beginning by restating for the log the purpose of his experiment. A virus on Bajor had infected a major surplus crop, and Doctor Bashir was one of the consulting experts. Over the course of a week, Doctor Bashir had observed the virus run its course on the grain samples he'd had brought to his lab.

Today, approximately one week later, Doctor Bashir detected airborne samples of the virus that no longer seemed suited to attacking grain.

"It's mutated," Doctor Bashir muttered darkly. "But why?"

Hours later, Bashir was muttering intensely as the computer display flashed current calculations. He'd already run the numbers in his mind, but he wanted every step to be thoroughly recorded.

The simple grain virus from Bajor had savagely mutated, and Julian had a nasty hunch that it wasn't a natural mutation and that it wasn't an accident.

"You gonna stay here all night?" Miles said from behind Bashir, and the doctor nearly jumped out of his skin.

Bashir whirled around and stared at his friend for a moment before he realized what was going on.

"Oh, I'm sorry Miles," Julian said, and his face fell. "We were supposed to meet at the holosuites tonight, weren't we?"

Miles shrugged and offered Julian a bottle of wine.

"What's this?" Julian asked as he spun the label.

"A gift from Captain Picard the last time he was on Earth. It's from his brother's vineyard," Miles said.

Julian shook his head and offered the bottle back to O'Brien.

"No, Miles, I couldn't," Bashir said in an attempt to return the gift.

Miles pinned Julian with a look.

"Now, Julian," Miles said with a wicked gleam in his eye. "You didn't think I'd let you drink that alone, did you? Come on, there's a bottle of whiskey waiting after that's gone."

Julian half-turned back to the display before he shook his head.

"I'm sorry, but I really shouldn't. I'm close to catching something here. I just don't know what," Julian muttered.

"Are you going to find it by reaching into the computer and plucking out the answer?" Miles asked wryly.

Julian sighed and shook his head again.

"I suppose not," he relented.

Miles grinned and said, "Atta boy."

Julian laughed as he puttered around, closing down the Infirmary for the night.

As they were leaving, O'Brien elbowed Bashir in the ribs and quipped a joke that made Bashir cackle with glee.

XXIII END CHAPTER XXIII

Author's Notes: Thank you, thank you, thank you for reading this far!! I'm so glad to be on this journey with all of you. Super big shout out to everyone who has read, reviewed, followed, or favorited!! You guys are the best.


	25. Chaapter Twenty-four

Captain Sisko sat at his desk with steepled hands, deep in thought. He'd just recieved a communication from Starfleet Command that troubled him.

Admiral Necheyav had informed him that a certain friend of his had been found among a few not so nice people. Another 'mutual friend' of theirs had saved the first from a 'bad party'. Necheyav had assured Sisko that the first friend would be well-treated as a guest of Starfleet Command.

If Sisko had interpreted correctly (and he was certain there wasn't much other way to interpret the message), Aisling had been recovered by an operative of Starfleet Command. All of this within two days of his intial report.

Apparently Starfleet was taking this seriously, indeed, if Aisling was being held on Earth. Sisko wondered briefly how the brass was going to handle this--diplomacy or hush magic.

The door signal chimed, and Sisko made an exasperated noise, setting down the padd in his hands.

"Come in," he said.

The door opened, and Garak walked in.

"Mr. Garak," Sisko said as his eyebrows rose. "Sit," he said, gesturing to the chair.

Garak lowered himself into the chair and fixed his gaze on Sisko.

"Aisling has been found," Garak stated without preamble.

Sisko's eyebrows winged up even further.

"Mr. Garak, I'm more shocked by your ability to be blunt than I am that you know this only minutes after I found out," Sisko observed lightly.

Garak made a gesture, sort of a hybrid shrug and nod. It was an acceptance, a dismissal, and it was nothing at all.

Sisko grinned suddenly, and he stood and offered his hand to Garak.

"But I'll be damned if it's not good to see you, Garak," Sisko said, and Garak gingerly accepted the handshake.

"Likewise," Garak said, but his perturbed expression belied his discomfort at being so warmly greeted.

"So, Mr. Garak, what can I do for you? Surely, you didn't come just to tell me something I already knew? You're too smart for that."

Garak inclined his head.

"You are correct," Garak replied. "I came to express my discontent with Starfleet, as a representative of Cardassia."

Sisko blinked once, then twice, as he processed this information.

"You came to me to lodge a complaint?" Sisko said, bewildered.

"Yes," Garak said. His eyes and nostrils flared as he drew in a breath. "Aisling was my guest, a guest of the Cardassian government. I came to Deep Space Nine as a guest of Starfleet, in fact as a personal guest of two Starfleet officers. Keeping with common custom, I brought another individual with me as my guest."

Here, Garak stood and broadened his shoulders, drawing up to his full height before he continued the grand narration of his suffering and discontent.

"I cannot and will not allow the insult to stand that a Federation plot has violated the trust and good will of the Cardassian government," Garak said. "Reparations must be made. In fact, on behalf of other injured parties, I demand reparations be made for all damages and grievances recieved as a result of this travesty."

Sisko watched this tirade cautiously; Garak was acting out of turn and out of character, and Sisko wanted to know why.

"What manner of reparations do you mean?" Sisko asked in a low, carefully controlled voice.

Garak smiled, and it was vicious and keen.

"Reparations shall not be negotiated except in the arbitration of a third party, as accepted by all injured and defending parties," Garak parried, folding his hands together with a close-lipped smile.

Sisko steepled his hands and inclined his head, his eyes never leaving the other man's face.

"I'll have to speak with my superiors," Sisko replied quietly.

Garak nodded, a slight bend of the neck.

"I understand," Garak allowed. "And, Benjamin?"

Sisko's face closed at the casual familiarity.

"Yes, Mr. Garak?" he asked lightly.

"Do send your family my love," Garak said with a fierce, lopsided smile. The irony of the moment wasn't lost on Sisko, who couldn't fully stifle a grin of his own.

"Is that all, Mr. Garak?" Sisko asked.

Garak nodded, still sporting his crafty smile.

"Very well, then," Sisko said with a curt nod. "I will pass your grievances and your terms to Starfleet Command. Thank you, Mr. Garak."

Garak turned to leave, and Sisko called out to stop him.

"Oh, but there is one more thing," Sisko said.

Garak turned to him with a raised brow.

"Do you hold a title now?" Sisko asked.

Garak froze, smile pasted in place.

"Mr. Garak suits me just fine, Captain," Garak uttered softly.

"As you wish," Sisko replied with a small nod.

"Thank you, Captain," Garak said, and he walked out without another word.

XXIV END CHAPTER XXIV

Author's Notes: Oh, this chapter. I like this chapter, I don't like this chapter; but it is what it is.

HAPPY NEW YEAR everyone!!! Please, please, PLEASE be safe. Don't drink and drive, be VERY careful if you have to be on the roads today--it's gonna be crazy busy.

Last post of the year haha.


	26. Chaoter Twenty-Five

Ezri lingered over her drink, swirling the last remnants of the once viciously fizzy blue liquid.

"Something on your mind?" Quark asked, noting the sullen air that clung to Dax like a little cloud.

Ezri shook her head, paused midmotion as if to reconsider, and then she sighed.

"Wanna talk about it?" Quark pressed as he systematically wiped down his glassware.

Ezri shook her head.

"I couldn't even begin to tell you what's on my mind," Ezri commented. "It's just...so much has happened, so much is up in the air, and there's nothing I can do about most of it."

Quark nodded.

"The business with the faeries," Quark mentioned.

Ezri nodded as she finished off her drink. Quark smoothly poured another of the Furilly Fizz and slid it in front if her.

"That's part of it," she said. On instinct, she reached for the fresh glass as Quark removed the spent one. "And the wedding. And this woman who knows Julian, knew him as a child--did you know she's older than me?"

Quark shrugged and held a hand up as though to say, "who can say?"

"You're what, twenty-six? Twenty-eight? Thirty, at the outlier?" Quark asked.

Ezri waved the comment away.

"That's not what I meant," she corrected herself. She took a fresh sip of electric blue froth. "Aisling? She's older than Dax, the symbiont."

Quark's eyes widened and he leaned closer.

"Wouldn't that make her, like, centuries old?" Quark asked.

Ezri paused and watched the color and foam swirl together in her glass. She hiccupped, jolting herself out of her reverie, and she blinked in mild surprise. Ezri turned her attention to Quark again.

"I think at this point, she might measure in millenia," Ezri quipped before she knocked back the entire contents of her glass. She hiccuped a few more times as she set the glass back down.

Quark, without missing a beat, slid another glass in front of her, this one holding a clear beverage.

"I didn't-" hic "-ask for a-" hic "-different-" hic "-drink?" Ezri managed to spit out between hiccups.

Quark waved the thought away with a short laugh.

"It's water, Dax. It's for your hiccups," Quark said. "You always get hiccups after your third Furilly Fizz."

Ezri glanced down at the glass as Quark was called away to another customer.

"He's so-" hic "-sweet," Ezri murmured to herself.

:Scene Break:

Garak thought furiously as he paced; the carpet in his quarters had begun to look a bit threadbare from his repetitive movements. If Ezri could see him now, she'd probably want to talk about his feelings, or some other such nonsense. With all the respect due to Ezri, the latest host of the Dax symbiont, there was hardly a person of which Garak could concieve that he would not rather speak with than Ezri. Garak huffed in aggravation.

Too many thoughts were running around in his head. For once in his life, Garak wished that it was his claustrophobia that was bothering him. At least that was a familiar enemy--not like this maelstrom inside of him now.

Since the day Enabran Tain had cast him out of Cardassia, a mixture of anger, wounded pride, and sorrow had stained everything that Garak was. During the years that followed, loss began to play a heavy part in the mix of buried emotions. But now, when his people needed him most, Garak found himself distracted by a feeling, a yearning, that he thought he had left in the past.

Garak stopped dead in his tracks, and he felt his stomach churn. Julian was getting married. With an oath, Garak whirled around and stormed out the door.

A few minutes later, Garak stalked briskly down the Promenade. He was greeted with nods and waves and even a few smiles, but Garak's attention was focused inward.

His thoughts were roiling as he passed the Bawdy Storeroom, and he almost didn't hear the shopkeep call his name.

"Mr. Garak!" the man called again, and louder. Garak halted and turned to regard him.

The tall and lanky man known as Gardaviir Blamish had moved his operations to DS9 a few months after the end of the war. While Garak couldn't say he'd ever met him in person, Blamish seemed to have an interest in speaking with him.

"How may I help you? Mr. Blamish, is it?" Garak asked. Gardaviir nodded with a broad smile.

"I was just wondering if you wanted your things, that's all," Blamish said jovially.

Garak tilted his head and raised his brow.

"What things?" he asked.

Blamish gestured for Garak to follow and took off into the back. Garak glanced around in mild disbelief before he walked after the shopkeep. Garak paused at the door to a miniscule storeroom, one of many doorways in the beehive of a hallway. Blamish was tossing things here and there, checking stacks of paperwork and faded labels barely clinging to the warren of identical black drawers.

"Well, the doctor, he said you'd left these here and that he'd let you know where he'd stored them. In case you wanted them back, you know?" Blamish reported as he triumphantly opened one of the drawers. He reached in and pulled out a dusty, black bag.

Garak took the bag gingerly and his eyes widened. A year ago, he'd left his sewing tools on Deep Space Nine deliberately; it wasn't a piece of his life that he wanted to take with him at that time.

"He paid up fifteen years of storage, so if you need to leave them, that's fine, too," Blamish told him.

"Fifteen years?" Garak asked, incredulous. His gaze flew to meet Blamish's eyes.

Blamish smiled sheepishly, and he replied, "That's the time that one slip of latinum buys. I don't have the best security, so I don't reccomend storing anything valuable here. But for your knick-knacks, extraneous wardrobe items, or just plain old junk, the Bawdy Storeroom is your stop!"

Garak looked down at the bag on the counter.

"I believe I will take this today," Garak said slowly.

"Alright, then, let me draw up a receipt slip real quick," Blamish said, and he stepped around Garak nimbly in the tight space and walked away.

Garak cracked open the bag and closed his eyes. Even the smell was the same.

"Here we are," Blamish said as he returned, clutching a padd in his hand.

The two sorted out the finer details of the transaction with a few signatures and waivers. A few short minutes later, Garak walked away from the Bawdy Storeroom with a piece of his past.

XXV END CHAPTER XXV

Author's Notes: Thank you, once again, from the bottom of my heart. Thank you for reading, thank you for following and reviewing and all the wonderful things you guys do.

You're the best.


	27. Chapter Twenty-Six

A bright, warm sunbeam splashed onto the heavy, oaken table. The curtains were tied back to let plenty of light into the Provençal farmhouse kitchen, and a slight breeze meandered in through the open windows.

Captain Picard gestured for his guest to sit, and she did so. Despite the distateful scenario Picard had spared her from, Siobhan seemed to be in a reasonably pleasant disposition.

After her release, Siobhan had refused to use a teleporter--something Deanna had speculated was possible--and so they had instead taken on of Earth's last functioning trainlines from Colfax to New Orleans for lunch. After dining at Sisko's (at Siobhan's insistance), Picard had arranged for transport by shuttle to his brother's home in France.

During lunch and the shuttle ride, Siobhan had spoken very little; upon their arrival at the estate, she launched question after question about the vines and their care. Picard found himself telling her small memories from his childhood of tending the Earth and the vines.

Upon their arrival at manor, Jean-Luc greeted his family and explained as much as he was able--that Siobhan was a visiting "dignitary" and that Starfleet wanted her away from official channels until further notice. His brother reluctantly agreed for Picard and Siobhan to stay for a few days, and he offered to let them stay in the converted stables a bit west of the manor itself.

Picard straightened his uniform as he returned his thoughts to his actions. He browsed a small selection of wines and chose one, a fine table vintage. As he poured two glasses of the wine, Picard glanced at his guest.

Siobhan was relaxed into the plush armchair with her eyes closed. A soft smile was playing at her lips.

Picard carried the glasses to a small table among the collective of stuffed chairs. He set the glasses down gently and nearly silently, and Picard seated himself across the table from Siobhan. She opened her eyes to regard him; the smile was gone.

"For you," Picard said, gesturing to the glass beside her. Siobhan stared at him, and time stretched on for several moments.

"After you," Siobhan said softly, gesturing at the glass before him.

"Of course," Picard said with a gracious smile. He plucked up his glass and sipped lightly, setting his glass back down and holding his hands out as if to say, "See? It's ok."

Siobhan slid both glasses in matching, graceful arcs until she had swapped their positions. She took the glass now in front of her and took a cautious sip. Picard barely had time to process the inherent suspicion in her gesture before he watched her eyes close in reverent bliss. Siobhan clutched the glass close, and her eyes opened to gaze down into the drink.

"This is delicious," Siobhan murmured.

"I'm glad you approve," Picard commented, choosing his words with care.

Siobhan smiled, a wry twist of her lips.

"Captain," she said, "It's been a very long time since I've drunk anything grown on Earth."

"I see," Picard said, inclining his head gently. "I wonder, Siobhan, if you could tell me something?"

Siobhan's expression closed, and she regarded him cautiously.

"What would you like to know?" Siobhan asked in turn.

"How did you come to be on Deep Space Nine?" Picard asked. "That is such a terribly long way from Earth, after all."

Siobhan paused to consider her response.

"Captain... I believe someone has failed to be completely honest with you. Without knowing you, who you work for, or any other parties present, I feel it is best to keep my counsel regarding my motives and actions," Siobhan said. "Surely, you understand?"

"Of course," Picard replied, sweeping his hands in a gracious gesture of understanding.

They sipped in silence for nearly an hour, enjoying the simple pleasure of wine on a beautiful day. Siobhan seemed to relax more and more the longer she was allowed to sit in silence, so Picard reserved the questions he had intended to ask her for later.

After a time, Siobhan set her empty glass onto the table and stretched.

"Captain," she began, and Picard regarded her with a guarded curiosity. "When may I expect to return to Deep Space Nine?"

Surprise flashed across Picard's face before he stifled it.

"As early as tomorrow, if you wish," Picard replied. Siobhan nodded.

"That would be most agreeable, Captain," Siobhan commented softly.

Picard nodded.

"Very well," he said. "Would you prefer that I accompany you, in light of recent circumstances?"

Siobhan considered this, and then she nodded.

"Of course," Picard returned. "I'll clear it with Starfleet tonight, and we can be on our way as soon as you're ready tomorrow."

Siobhan nodded once more, and she picked up her empty glass.

"Captain, if it's not too much trouble," she said, "might I have another glass?"

Picard's face cracked into a grin, the picture of a pleased host, and he rose to refill her glass.

XXVI END CHAPTER XXVI


	28. Chapter Twenty-Seven

Garak bent over the well-lit table, placing careful stitches one behind another in the purple silk. Just the day prior, he had been reunited with his sewing kit from his time on Deep Space Nine--Garak wasted no time in taking Aisling up on her request.

Using the bolt of Bolian silk he had previously discussed with Aisling, he had designed not one but three garments. A tea length, sleeveless frock was perfect for sun-drenched picnics; the silky shorts would make great poolside or bedroom lounge attire; and the long-sleeved tunic would look amazing with flax breeches and a leather style, waist-cinching belt. Garak hummed tunelessly as his hands worked; he had been quite pleased to find that hemming still served to clear his thoughts and focus his mind.

Garak completed the line of stitches and tied off his thread, snipping the tail and brushing off the frock's hem. He held up the finished garment and smiled, pleased at how well the silk draped.

Garak stood and placed the dress on the small pile of the other garments he'd recently made, and he stretched. Garak wondered idly what to do with himself, and he realized with a guilty start that he hadn't dealt with any matters on Cardassia since the trip to Deep Space Nine, weeks ago.

Garak grabbed a padd and pressed in a few commands and codes, and he uttered an oath at the lengthy list of messages and inquiries. He sat on the edge of the bed and tapped away, sending replies and answering reports with his own.

*Scene Break*

Julian scowled at the display on the computer screen. He was leaned forward in his seat, centered in his research station in the Infirmary. Julian reported for his log the disturbing amount of change the virus displayed since only the day before. Bashir was beginning to suspect the worst, as the virus was beginning to show signs of direct threat to humanoids.

Bashir steepled his hands as he tapped a foot. He speculated for his log who had created this virus, how they had infected Bajor, and what counter measures to research. Bashir noted several points of discussion to make before he contacted the Bajoran Council of Ministers.

"Good afternoon," the pleasantly bland clerk greeted him when the computer display flashed to show the Chamber.

Julian wheedled and demanded until the clerk patched him through to the council, and after much debate he convinced them to quarantine the blighted areas and conduct massive research efforts of their own.

"And you're sure this virus will become harmful under the conditions on Bajor?" a minister asked Julian.

"No, I'm not," Julian admitted freely. "But I believe the risks outweigh my uncertainty; this virus is expertly engineered, and I'm not sure we don't have an artificial plague on our hands in a premature stage."

Bashir's proclimation was met with somber faces, and the council dismissed Bashir shortly afterwards.

*Scene Break*

"Would you stop doing that?" Miles demanded, whirling to face Moira. She regarded him with mockingly innocent eyes, as if to say, "Who, me?" O'Brien scowled and muttered, returning his attention to his project on the work station in front of him.

Since he'd gone to Earth to teach, Miles was hardly able to find work enough to keep his hands busy, so he had taken up the habit of puttering. Puttering with gadgets had turned into research into the more obscure physics principles; in turn, Miles found that his puttering had turned into inventing somewhere along the way.

At the moment, Miles was tinkering around with a remote replicator. At least, he was trying to, but he was being infuriatingly distracted by Moira. She was invisible to everyone else, again, and she kept making bloody stupid faces acrost his workbench at him. When she got tired of that, she'd spend a few minutes making the most absurd noises.

"I do wish you'd just quit," O'Brien muttered venomously as he twisted a few spare pieces together.

Moira laughed merrily, and she shook her head.

"I find it irresistible," she replied. "Of all the gin joints in the world, I get outted as a faerie on a station with an Irishman."

"So?" O'Brien said defensively, throwing a glare at her over his shoulder. "What's wrong with being Irish?"

"Nothing's wrong with it," Moira commented with an off-hand shrug. "But the Irish were more in touch with the fae, long after most of us left. They developed an ability, and about one in ten ended up being born with it, and those lucky enough to have the gift were able to see the faeries as an adult."

Miles glanced over to regard her pensively.

"I thought that ability was all over the place," he said, referencing something Julian had mentioned from a conversation with Aisling.

Moira nodded.

"Yes, that's true," she allowed, "but it's much rarer outside of Irish heritage. About one in every ten thousand people of non-Irish heritage have the ability, with the exception of a few pockets of isolated and faerie-friendly cultures across the globe. The Ainu of Japan are a good example."

Miles shook his head, turning a few technical components over in his hands before using a small tool to solder them together.

"Yeah, well, I wish you'd find one of them to bother," O'Brien muttered peevishly.

Moira laughed heartily, and she clapped her hands with relish. O'Brien rolled his eyes, and he did his best to ignore her continuing antics.

XXVII END CHAPTER XXVII

Author's Notes: Just a small chapter of little snippets, setting the stage for some othet stuff.

Once again, thank you for reading.


	29. Chapter Twenty-Eight

Julian leaned against the wall as Captain Data scrolled through dozens of pages of computer data at a time. Julian could very nearly read every word before Data switched to the next screen, and he found himself swearing mentally that he wasn't fast enough.

After about a minute, Data completed reading Bashir's assembled information, and he turned around to face the doctor.

"What do you make of it, Captain Data?" Julian asked.

Data launched into a complex and thorough analysis of the virus and it's mutations, and his predictions largely matched Bashir's own.

"I'd like you to take a look at the virus's current patterns," Julian commented, stepping forward to press a few commands into the display.

Data turned and they both watched the screen flash to a series of graphs and figures.

"Doctor," Data said suddenly, turning to face Bashir. The doctor raised a brow and gestured for Data to continue. "I believe there is information you need to see. Computer, access Scientific Log of the Cowabunga."

Data listed a specific stardate and file, and Julian stared at a set of patterns nearly identical to the previous screen.

"What's this?" Julian asked, though he had a sinking feeling that he already knew; his brow furrowed at the possible implications.

"This is the scans my ship took of the mietric radiation," Data said. "Upon inspection, it appears that the two phenomena are related."

Julian nodded, deep in speculation.

The two of them worked in tandem for nearly and hour before Data left to pursue other tasks. Julian saved and encrypted all his data, and then he pressed his combadge.

"Doctor Bashir to Captain Sisko," he reported.

"Sisko here," the Captain replied.

"Captain, are you in your office?" Bashir asked.

"Yes?" Sisko returned. "What's this all about?"

"Just stay right there, sir, please," Julian said as he walked toward the door. "I've got something I need to tell you."

XXVIII END CHAPTER XXVIII

Author's Notes: This chapter has one of my favorite bits from this entire story. I can only imagine the mini rivalry Julian would create in his mind against Data if they spent extended time serving together.

Thank you for reading! And a very special shout out to the all-stars who go that little extra mile and review, favorite, or follow me or my stories.

You guys are the best!!!


	30. Chapter Twenty-Nine

Aisling--Siobhan--stepped through the open pneumatic doors and into the halls of Deep Space Nine. Her nose crinkled at the familiar smell of duranium and crowds. Captain Picard disembarked as well, and he nodded at Sisko and Kira.

"Welcome back," Captain Sisko greeted them both with a smile. "I believe we all know each other?"

Major Kira, Captain Picard, and Aisling all nodded; they were all at least aquainted.

"Good," Sisko said. "If you both would come with me?"

Picard blinked in mild surprise, and they followed Captain Sisko briskly down the hall.

The lot of them ended up joining O'Brien, Captain Data, Garak, Dax, Huford, and Moira in the wardroom. The company rose as two captains walked in--including Data, who stood out of respect for Picard and Sisko though he wasn't outranked.

At Sisko's gesture, everyone settled into their seats.

"Everyone, please welcome Captain Picard," Sisko began. A polite but earnest applause swept through the room. Sisko nodded, and he continued after the noise died off.

"Captain, thank you for joining us," Sisko said.

"You're quite welcome," Picard offered politely. "Is someone going to tell me what's going on?"

Sisko drew back, surprise evident on his face.

"Aisling hasn't filled you in?" Sisko asked.

Picard's expression became unreadable, and he turned to stare blandly at Aisling.

"I didn't tell him a thing," Aisling declared. "Though since I'm this much embroiled in your conflict, I will give the assembled a boon."

Aisling stood and the room regarded her curiously. Moira, in particular, was eyeing her old friend warily.

"My name is not, as you say Captain Sisko, Aisling," she began. "Aisling is a title, one in service to the queen. My name, as is proper and true, is Siobhan."

Sisko steepled his hands and inclined his head deeply.

"Very good," he commented for lack of better comment to make. "However, as delighted as I am to be entrusted with such a prize, we have very important matters at hand."

Siobhan inclined her head graciously as she reseated herself, and she gestured for Sisko to continue.

Sisko, with help from various other people in the room, gave Picard a crash course on the goings on to date.

Afterward, Picard wasn't even given any time to absorb that before Data and Bashir launched into the problem of the virus.

Siobhan and Moira turned white about halfway through Bashir's explanation.

"Let me see the scans," Moira demanded quietly once the briefing was finished.

Bashir glanced at Sisko, and at his slight nod, Bashir brought the scans up on the visual display.

"Oh my god," Siobhan breathed as her eyes widened.

"Fuck," Moira agreed distinctly.

"What is it?" Ezri asked. "What's wrong, what do you see?"

Moira turned to face Ezri and simply started shaking her head over and over.

"That's a souped of version of Elf Shot," Siobhan said in a strangled voice. "The original was banned, permanently, in our society. It's maiden deployment wiped out nearly a third of the human population at the time."

Several people surged to their feet, Kira among them. Bashir goggled at the enormity of the figure.

"But Bajor--" Kira began in a taut voice, but Moira cut her off with a raised hand.

"I will do everything in my power to stop the spread of this blight," Moira pledged. "But I need to go to Bajor as soon as possible."

Kira bit back the scathing reply on her tongue, and she simply nodded wordlessly.

"Why not bring Aisling--or Siobhan, rather--with you?" Garak asked. "Surely two minds are better than one?"

Moira glanced at Siobhan before answering; Siobhan gave the barest of nods. Moira returned her focus to Garak.

"She's of no use to me, hobbled like she is to this plane," Moira commented.

"I beg your pardon?" Garak replied, mystified. Dax and Bashir also leaned forward, intrigued.

Moira paused to consider her words.

"Siobhan, when you first met her, was locked into the energetic realm, yes?" Moira asked Garak directly.

Garak nodded.

"Well," Moira continued, "when the Prophets returned her to her physical state, they didn't release her, they--how to explain it?"

Moira tapped her face in thought, and Siobhan interjected.

"It's like they turned my bonds inside out, in a way," Siobhan offered. Moira nodded, inspired.

"Yes, exactly!" Moira replied. "Well, more or less," she ammended.

Garak blinked at her, mystified still.

"If your people locked her in one form, why not release her now?" he asked.

Moira paused again, obviously hesitant to continue.

"I lack the ability," she replied cautiously.

Garak stared pensively at her, but he didn't press any further.

"Well," Sisko said lightly, cutting across the tension. "As enlightening as this meeting has been, all things must come to a close. Does anyone have any further business to discuss here?"

The room was silent, and a few people shook their heads slightly.

"Alright, then," Sisko said. "Dismissed!"

XXIX END CHAPTER XXIX

Author's Notes: Sooo I didn't mean, plan, or even really realize that last chapter was such a cliffhanger. This chapter is meant to kind of be Right after last chap, tho, even if the action picks up a little bit differently.

Thank you, thank you, thank you!!! Thank you for reading this far, and an extra big shout-out to anyone who takes the time to favorite, follow, or especially review. You guys make my day, every time.


	31. Chapter Thirty

Siobhan sullenly nursed a tepid, pale green drink. Quark's stash of non-alcoholic, non-replicated beverages was dipping dangerously low with two faeries on the station; as a result, he had presented Siobhan with a palid "celery mineral spritz" with a flourish. She had made a face, and Quark had made his apologies. The only other options were hard liquors.

So, half an hour later, Siobhan half-heartedly sipped that same glass. She felt a tap on her shoulder, and Siobhan spun with a puzzled expression.

She regarded the large Klingon warrior looming over her curiously.

"May I help you?" she asked, thinking perhaps she had been mistaken for someone else.

The Klingon sneered derisively.

"'Can I help you?' the little whelp asks," the warrior jeered at her. "You're in my seat!"

Siobhan's face closed in a flash of heat, and she counted slowly in her head. When her flared temper was in check, Siobhan spoke through gritted teeth.

"I believe I will give you a chance to reconsider your words," Siobhan bit out as she rose, her eyes flashing. "Now, what can I help you with, *sir*?"

Siobhan glowered up at the Klingon as she drew to her full height--still a full head and a half shorter than the Klingon.

He spat at her, hitting her cheek with spittle.

"MOVE!" he bellowed, raising his hand in a threat to strike her.

Siobhan's vision went red. Later, she had a vague memory of a shouted warning from Quark, but in the moment she was out of control. She launched herself at the warrior, catching him off guard with her speed, and she traded blows for a few moments before delivering a descisive, brutal finish.

Less than a minute after her initial assault, Siobhan drew the Klingon's own dagger, pinned each of his limbs with her own body, and pressed the Klingon's own blade to his throat.

That was how Siobhan came back to her senses; Starfleet and Bajoran security was surrounding her, and other Klingon warriors were being held back by even more security officers.

Siobhan slowly pulled back her hands and dropped the knife. Security mobbed her, and she felt hands pressing her into the floor.

"That Klingon was assaulting her!" Quark hollered, stalking closer to the action from behind the bar.

"Quark?" Colonel Kira said incredulously. "I can't believe you're getting involved in this."

"I can't either," Quark muttered under his breath. Louder, he returned, "That woman is innocent! She acted in self defense, and she showed proper restraint!"

"I apprciate your input, Quark," Kira said with a hit of sarcasm, "but that'll be up to the majestrate."

Kira eyed Siobhan, pinned to the ground, with a cautious glance. She knelt down beside her and spoke in a low tone.

"You broke the law," Kira murmured. "I'm going to have to take you into custody."

"I understand," Siobhan replied calmly, reasonably. "Do what you must, Colonel. I don't hold it against you."

Kira nodded.

"Good," Kira said as she regained her feet. "I'm gonna need you to stand up for me."

As soon as the weight of the deputies was gone from her back, Siobhan slowly rose to comply with the Colonel's request/order.

Kira stood behind her and respectfully walked Siobhan to Security. Kira purposefully avoided using the transporter and opted not to use restraints. Upon reaching Security, Kira asked Siobhan to step into the cell and briefly read her a small list of rights.

"If the law didn't require me to, I wouldn't hold you for this," Kira said in a moment of honesty. She felt a pang of guilt at tumbling Siobhan into a cell so soon after she had escaped her previous prison.

Siobhan smiled softly and she shook her head.

"Don't worry about it," Siobhan said. "It's long been out of fashion to brawl in public."

The dryness of her wit drew a short

laugh from Kira.

"I have to report to Captain Sisko now," Kira said, turning to look at the otherwise empty holding cell--one of three and the only one currently unoccupied. "Hopefully you won't be too uncomfortable here."

Scene Break*

"You did WHAT?!" Garak exclaimed, throwing his hands up in outrage. He was pacing in Captain Sisko's office, and Ben was reminded of a tiger he'd once seen in a research lab.

"Siobhan broke the law," Sisko said calmly.

"She defended herself from unlawful harrasment, which your security did nothing to stop!" Garak retorted, stabbing a finger in the air for emphasis.

Sisko blinked, and his head tilted to the side.

"Mr. Garak," he began, and Garak raised an angry eyebrow. "What is all this about?"

Garak made an exasperated noise, and he spat, "I beg your pardon?!"

Sisko steepled his hands a few moments in thought, and his hands touched his lips. When he spoke, his hands flew forward to punctuate his words.

"Mr. Garak, ever since I've been back, you've been on edge. Moody, brooding--that is to say, worse than normal. And I've seen you fight a war against your own people, Mr. Garak. I've seen you moody.

"Now, you've overreacted, again, to an incident out of my control. Siobhan herself is content to wait and face the consequences of her actions. Given the evidence and her dignitary status, I very much expect the magistrate to dismiss any charges the Klingon government MIGHT choose to press. And Martok isn't a man to press charges over a barroom brawl. And you, Mr. Garak, know this. So, I ask you once again; what is all this about?"

At the culmination of Sisko's words, Garak seemed deflated--somehow defeated. Garak sighed, and he sat in the chair across the desk from Sisko.

"Frankly, Captain," Garak began. Sisko knitted his hands, raised a brow, and leaned forward to listen intently.

"It's none of your business," Garak said. "But I suppose you, of all people, might be owed at least a bit of an explanation...

"Captain, I'm a lonely man. I always have been, to an extent I likely always will be. I didn't have--wasn't allowed--friends as a child. As an adult, I followed the same suit. In fact, there isn't any one person I considered a friend, Captain, before I came to live on Deep Space Nine. It was here, on this station, that I met a brazenly naive young Starfleet doctor. At first, I assumed the optimism and naivete were a front, but I soon learned that Julian really does see the best in everyone he meets. I don't know at what point that intrigue turned into friendship, but... Captain, to cut a long story terribly short, I'm trying to deal with a type of loss of a friend."

Captain Sisko nodded, reading between several lines and using his experience with Garak's habit of understatement and omission to render his understanding fairly clear. Garak, finally, was dealing with feelings for Julian that he had ignored for too long.

Sisko started to speak, rethought his words with a scratch of his neck, and he pointed at Garak before speaking.

"Maybe you oughta, you know, find someone to talk to?" Sisko suggested. A peculiar look crossed his face, and he added, "But maybe not Julian...or Ezri."

Garak laughed derisively, and he said, "The beautiful irony of it is that I already have, Captain."

"Oh?" Sisko asked, raising a brow.

"Yes," Garak quipped dryly. "Aisling. Siobhan, rather," Garak corrected himself quickly.

Sisko blinked, laughed once, and then he dissolved into a fit of hysteric laughter. Garak frowned, but he felt a smile tugging at his lips. Soon, Garak found himself chuckling. They both laughed raccously at the absurdity of the whole scenario. After a while, their mirth settled down.

"You know..." Captain Sisko began slowly. Garak regarded him curiously. "I don't think I've ever really forgiven you for that Romulan senator," Sisko said. He continued quickly, cutting Garak off before the other could speak.

"I know it was necessary," Sisko said. "In fact, I think that's what I...hold against you the most. That you were right."

Garak closed his mouth, the prepared retort drowned on the sudden wash of truth between them. Garak chose his next words carefully.

"Sometimes, we have to do things," Garak began. "Things we don't like, things morally repugnant, things we don't want to do. We do these things because we can, and others cannot, and these things MUST be done."

Sisko tapped his fingers slowly, to some inaudible tune.

"I know that," Sisko admitted at length. "I know, I really do. But it doesn't make it any easier."

"Captain," Garak said sharply. Sisko met his gaze. "Nothing should make it easier. And I think that's the point."

Sisko's expression turned reluctantly thoughtful.

"I suppose you're right, Mr. Garak," Sisko allowed. "Now, do you need anything else? I don't mean to rush you, but I'm still trying to catch up on a year's worth of paperwork."

Garak laughed, a clipped bark. He stood and ran a hand over his hair, once, before he straightened his coat front. Sisko blinked in mild surprise at this uncharacteristic show of nerves.

"No, Captain," Garak said at last with a small smile and a bow. Sisko nodded in return.

"Thank you, Captain. Good day," Garak said, and he turned on his heel and walked out the door.

XXX END CHAPTER XXX

Author's Notes: Oh my. It's been too long, but I'm still here!

As always, the biggest shoutout to anyone who favorites, follows, or reviews! You guys are the absolute best!


	32. Chapter Thirty-One

"What in the hell were you thinking?" Garak muttered, and Siobhan rolled her eyes. He was seated, leaning against the wall nearest her cell; she was seated against the adjoining wall, a foot or so away from the security field.

"He spat on me," Siobhan said hotly. "I wasn't thinking, I was furious!"

"So you tried to kill him?" Garak asked peevishly. Siobhan scoffed.

"If I'd wanted him dead, he would be," Siobhan muttered darkly. It was Garak's turn to roll his eyes.

"What were you doing lurking around Quark's, anyway?" Garak asked ill-temperedly. "Don't you have better things to do?"

Siobhan stared at him, shocked at the nerve. She gained her feet and spat her words venomously, stabbing her finger in the air for emphasis.

"I wasn't lurking anywhere! I was having a drink! Minding my Own BUSINESS!" She heaved an exasperated sigh, twirling around. When she spun again to look out of her cell, Garak was also on his feet.

Siobhan halted in her tracks at the sight of his expression--it was a confused mash-up of heated anger, desperate frustration, and an undercurrent of desire.

Siobhan paled as she realized what was going on--Cardassians flirted by yelling at each other. An odd custom to Siobhan, but it was the way of Garak's people, and she had walked right into this pitfall.

Siobhan whirled to face the wall as the color rushed furiously back into her face. Inside of her, anger warred with confusion warred with something she couldn't identify. Siobhan pressed a hand to her mouth to hold back a hysterical giggle.

"Go away," she said, her voice muffled into her palm.

"Siobhan," Garak said in a carefully level voice.

Siobhan shook her head, and she didn't turn around. She let her hand fall back to her side.

"Please leave," she restated more plainly. Garak released an exasperated sigh, but Siobhan heard his heavy steps fade as he walked out of the room.

Siobhan felt her face flush even hotter, and she screwed her eyes shut. It had been about seventeen hundred years since her last romance, and she had become quite unaccustomed to being...desired.

*Scene Break*

Sisko hunched over his desk, reading intently from the padd in his hands. A plate of food had grown stone cold, pushed aside and forgotten hours ago. Sisko wiped his eyes, disgruntled to find them sandy, and he scowled down at the report in front of him.

Over the last few hours, he'd managed to slog through about four months of paperwork. Most of it ended up being obsolete, but protocol insisted he fulfill the entirety of his duties that he'd missed while he was able.

Starfleet captains disappearing into spacetime anomalies for great lengths was apparently an unnervingly common phenomena, and there were strict regulations about the administrative duties required of persons under such influence. Because Sisko was in his original spacetime format for more than 24 hours (one Earth Day), he was required to complete as many reports owed from his position(s) as he was able.

Sisko swore virulently, and he dropped the padd onto his desk. He leaned back and covered his face with his hands, breathing deeply in search of a small moment of peace.

The door chime interrupted his reverie.

"Perfect," Sisko muttered into his hands sarcastically. He dropped his hands to his lap and called out without opening his eyes, "Enter."

The door hissed open and his guest walked in. Sisko opened his eyes, and his face cracked into a splitting grin as he shoved to his feet. Sisko offered a hand to Martok, the head of the Klingon Empire and a personal friend of his.

"Martok!" Sisko said jovially. "I'll be damned if it's not good to see you!"

Martok walked past Sisko's hand and drew the other man into a back-squeezing hug. Martok drew back, laughing, with his hands on Sisko's shoulders.

"Benjamin Sisko, Emissary of the Prophets," Martok said with a wry grin.

"Guilty as charged," Sisko said, a mischievous light in his eye.

Martok chuckled, and he said, "So, you've finally decided to pay us a little visit, eh? I'm honored that you considered us worthy of your time."

Sisko might have been offended, but they shared a similar streak of wicked humor.

Martok finally shook Sisko's outstretched hand, and they grinned fiercely at each other.

"So," Sisko said as they sat down, "on a bit of business. I don't know if you've heard of the incident that happened at Quark's a few days ago."

Martok nodded, a mildly disgusted look on his face.

"Aye," he muttered. "I heard a once proud warrior made a fool of himself. He disrespected the wrong person and got his ass sorely handed to him."

Sisko grinned at the off-the-cuff Federation slang Martok had adopted.

"Yes, that's about the sum of it," Sisko agreed. "Or it should have been."

"Oh?" Martok said. He reached into a pocket somewhere and withdrew a flask. He offered it to Sisko, who demurred with a grateful gesture.

"Yes," Sisko continued. "It seems that the person in question, a visitor by the name of Siobhan, is here as a personal guest of the Cardassian Empire. At least, that is the case Mr. Garak has presented to me."

At the name drop, Martok regarded Sisko with a mild stare.

"Garak," Martok repeated.

"Yes," Sisko affirmed with a nod. "Evidently, she and Garak became aquainted on Cardassia Prime, and she accompanied him to Deep Space Nine."

Martok stared at Sisko for a few long moments before he spoke.

"Who the hell is Siobhan?" Martok asked.

Sisko paused, and he sighed.

"Friend," Sisko began, "there's not an easy way to tell you this, so I'll just say it plain. I can't tell you. The events leading to her arrival and the nature of her stay are highly classified."

Martok blinked, judging the sincerity in Sisko's eyes. Martok's own eyes narrowed, and then he shrugged.

"It is what it is, Captain," Martok said. "Now, tell me about this wormhole. What was it like?"

Sisko grinned, and he began to tell Martok, as best he could, bits and pieces of his life with the Prophets.

XXXI END CHAPTER XXXI

**Author's Notes: New chapter, hecka soon, cause I feel terribad about leaving you guys hanging for literally months with several chapters still ready to goooo.****So, for a bit of an insight as to why I took so long: I work at a grocery store. In Louisiana. This has been...a very interesting year. Kind of like watching ants swarm your feet might be interesting.****Also: I did NOT want so much irl research into a deadly virus slowly spreading over a planet. Waaaaaaaah!****As always, thank you, thank you, thank you for reading, following, favoriting, or reviewing! You guys are the best!**


	33. Chapter Thirty-Two

Quark knew his crowds, and this crowd was on edge. Sure, the dabo girls smiled brilliantly; and the customers drank, and they gambled, and they laughed. But something was off, some undercurrent of chatter was too uneasy.

Ever since the incident with Siobhan and the Klingon, business had become increasingly dismal. Quark wiped a glass with an absent scowl.

Whatever business the Federation had with these faerie people, Quark wished they would get on with it soon. The tension on the station was ridiculous; it had only been a year and a half since the end of the war, and people were gunshy about the idea of another conflict.

Quark hatched an idea to himself then and there that he was going to change that. He pointed to a customer to acknowledge them and swiftly prepared a refill of the Saurian Seltzer and root tea for table six, all the while thinking furiously. How best to change the overall mood on the station?

Quark set down the drinks with an absent smile and nod, and he slipped back behind the bar. Quark tapped his fingers, and he suddenly snapped them with a grin.

"I've got it," Quark said to himself. "A celebration! I'll get these folks to forget their every trouble at Quark's Joyous Expo!" He frowned and waved at the air as he absently wiped a few spills on the bartop. "No, no, that's too juvenille."

He poured a pitcher of Regal Brandy Punch for table ten and slid the tray to his waiter.

"What about Quark's Concert of Calm?" Quark made a face, and then he leaned forward to take a customer's order. "God, no," Quark muttered to himself after he turned away.

He gently stirred two fizzing drinks and slid each one to a customer on opposite ends of the bartop.

"Quark's House of Fun?" he muttered to himself as he punched an order into the Replicator. He shook his head and reasoned, "Eh, I'll think of something."

*Scene Break*

Kira nodded at the guards, and Siobhan watched idly as the Bajoran officer nearest to the controls disengaged the security field.

"You're free to go," Colonel Kira said with a small smile.

Siobhan acknowledged this with a deep incline of her head. She stepped out of the cell, walking to join Kira for a moment.

"You have been kind," Siobhan told her with a smile.

Kira shrugged, and she replied, "It's what we do."

Siobhan nodded, and she waved before she walked out of the Security office a free woman.

Siobhan made her way to the turbolift, and she requested to be taken to the section closest to her quarters.

The turbolift doors hissed open and Siobhan walked out. She turned the corner and was confronted face to face with Garak.

His face took on a hint of surprise and Siobhan felt a slight flush creep up her neck.

"Siobhan," Garak said with a gracious nod. "Please, I would like to offer my most sincere apologies. I was too forward, and I have offended you."

Siobhan frowned, shifting her weight.

"That's not exactly true," she began. "I wasn't offended, exactly. You caught me by surprise."

Garak regarded her mildly, brows raised.

"I caught you by surprise," he repeated.

Siobhan nodded, and she twirled a lock of her hair in her hand.

"Yes," she stated. Her gaze fell to a corner of the floor, and she felt even more color rushing to her face. "It's been quite some time, you see, since I've had a...suitor."

Her eyes returned to Garak's, and he regarded her carefully.

"I see," he replied carefully.

"So, it's not that I find the idea of an advance from you unwanted," Siobhan said, "but rather... I don't quite know how to compose myself."

Garak smiled wryly.

"I see," he repeated, his tone mischievious. "I'm glad we had the chance to have this talk."

Siobhan nodded, and she felt some of the heat fade from her face at Garak's bland acceptance.

"Tell me, Siobhan," Garak began with a gleam in his eye.

Siobhan regarded him suspiciously, and she answered, "What?"

Garak smiled broadly, and he asked, "Would you like to accompany me to the Klingon restaurant for lunch? It could be our first date."

Siobhan was so startled she started to cough, and she goggled at Garak as she spluttered.

"The Klingon restaurant?" she repeated incredulously once she could properly breathe again. Garak nodded, grinning impishly. "Don't you think that's a rather fool hardy idea, given my recent problems with the Klingons?" she asked.

Garak grinned wider, especially since the date comment had gone unprotested.

"There is obviously much for you to learn about Klingon culture, my dear, if that's your most pressing concern," Garak said lightly. He gestured down the hallway, and Siobhan fell into step. "Trust me, you'll be treated like a hero."

XXXII END CHAPTER XXXII

**Author's Notes: Hello and hi, once more. Thank you, as always, for reading. Special shout out to everyone who follows, favorites, or reviews! **


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